The Other Margaret
by pebbles989
Summary: As Thomas More's life draws to a close, he remembers the secrets of his adoptive daughter's birth.
1. Chapter 1

(Idea came to me on the bus yesterday, after reading an old book about Margaret Roper. I own nothing. Hope you enjoy. )

**6th July 1535**

He does not regret the stand he has taken. As he stands on the scaffold this July morning, awaiting death, he does not regret the path that has brought him here. He would never ask another to betray his conscious, the same as if he had signed the Oath, he would be betraying his.

Like those in the crowd, who stare back at him teary eyed, he did not expect his life to end this way. Thomas More was meant to end his days, in his bed at home in Chelsea, surrounded by his family, the way his father had done. But the death he now must take to reach God was one that was forced on him, by a man who he once thought was his friend. Who he once thought shared his dreams and faith but not anymore! No, Thomas More does not regret the way it will end today.

But to say Thomas More goes to his death without regrets would be untrue. He regrets what his stand has done to his family. The pain it has caused Alice, who has made no secret that she cannot understand her husband's refusal to sign. The heartbreak it has caused his children, particularly his beloved Meg, whose heart he has all but broken.

It's almost time. He says his final words, 'I die the King's good servant but God's first,' and goes to kneel before the executioner's block. It is then he sees her. She is stood near the back of the crowd, tears stained on her beautiful face. She looks just like her mother, he thinks, as he goes to say his final prayer. It's then he realises the greatest regret of his life-that he never told his adoptive daughter, Margaret Giggs, the truth about her past.

Margaret had never asked questions. She had always been a happy child and had fitted in well with the rest of the family, with her caring nature and intelligence. She and Meg were closer than sisters, they would do everything together-even finishing each other's sentence when they were little. Poor Jane had adored her, as did Alice. Margaret had never had any need to feel unloved but sometimes, he had noticed, she would seem distant, as though deep in contemplation. He had always thought that one day, when the timing was right, he would tell her the truth, about how she had came to be with them-but it's too late now.

In the finally moment of his life, he realises the first thing he should have told her about her past-about the day he first met her mother.


	2. Chapter 2

(Thanks for the reviews-they mean so much. Hope everyone enjoys this chapter)

**August 1504**

So Jane it was to be. Jane Colt, the eldest of John Colt's daughters, was to be his wife. His wife? Thomas More sighed at the thought, as he walked alongside the Thames on a busy summers morning. It had all been his father's idea. The Mores were a family whose status was rising, in a society still rebuilding after years of civil war. His grandfather had been a simple baker, but his father was one of the most respected lawyers in England and was determined make the most of his clever son, with his friendships Erasmus and more importantly, with the boy who would one day be King. John More was was a very ambitious man and was well aware of the need to capitalize on his clever son's talents and connections. The Colts, like the Mores, were a family whose star was also rising-a union with them would increase both their social standings.

But Thomas was still not sure. He had nothing against young Jane, who was sweet and good natured, but extremely shy. He had only met her a three times and she had hardly said anything, except 'yes' or 'no'. He had tried to tell her of this place he often dreamed about, a place were no one was poor and everyone was equal but Jane had just smiled and said she didn't understand.

Thomas, despite everything had yearned for the religious life. He had entered the Charterhouse with the aim of joining the Carthusian Monks. He longed for the quiet solitude that the Order enjoyed for prayer and contemplation. But God had taught us to honour thy father and thy mother, so when his father had secured him a place in Parliament, he had not argued. He had left the Carthusians without a word in arger with his father and had taken his seat in Parliament, whilst returning to tutoring the young Prince but marry? His father was convinced, marriage would do him good.

_'Marriage, would get that head of yours out of the cloud and back on earth,' John More, had remarked, in that harsh, businesslike manor of his, 'then maybe you can concentrate on advancing your career,'_

But Thomas More's head was once again in the clouds and so deep in thought, that he didn't notice the young woman with the basket until it was too late.

* * *

'Ow! Watch it!' called a voice in the street, but it was too late. Thomas was shock out of his thoughts as he collided with someone coming the other way down the busy street and felt something hit him hard in the stomach. Recovering from the shock , he found he had walked into a woman, who was as stunned as he and what had hit him in the stomach was the woman's backet, which was now rolling around the street.

'I'm sorry,' said Thomas, as he bent over to help the woman pick up her belongings, (many reels of thread and swaps of silk), which were now scattered over the road, 'here let me help you,'

He picked up one of the many reel that had gone flying and was now causing people to slip and slide around them. As he handed it to the woman, who was looking flustered with her dusty blonde hair falling out from under her simply white cap and had her arms full with the reels and swabs of fabric she had gathered from the street, he saw the look of anger on her face.

'Does it look like I have a hand free!' she snapped, throwing her bundle into the basket, before returning to Thomas and snatching the reel out of his hand, 'thank you!'

She turned to pick up her basket, her pale blue dress swishing as she did so, but before she could grab the handle, it was once again sent flying-this time by a horse pulling an apple cart.

'You bastard!' screamed the woman, her pale face almost turning red with anger, as she shook her fist after the cart and its driver, before once again falling to her knees, scrambling around the street, collecting her belongs.

Thomas looked at her, as she picked up some of her many reels and expensive fabrics, muttering curses under her breath as she did so. He had never met a woman, who was quite so free with her language. His mother and sisters would never dream of using such words and certainly not in public.

'Aren't you going to help me?' the woman shouted, bring him out of his trace, 'after all, this is all your fault!'

'I fail to see how this is my fault,' said Thomas, picking a handful of swaps of silks off the ground, 'I was not the one leading that horse,'

'No,' snapped the woman, throwing the reels and swabs back in the basket, before picking it up, 'but if you hadn't had your head in the clouds, Master More, then you wouldn't have knocked me flying in the first place and my threads and fabrics, meant for the Royal Household would not be covered in mud!'

'They cannot be covered in mud, it has not rained all summer,' smiled Thomas, 'anyway, how do you know my name?'

'I work for Our Lady, the King Mother,' replied the woman, sharply, 'or rather I worked, for I doubt I'll be kept in my job after my employers see these priceless threads are caked in dirty...Everyone knows your name, Master More,'

And with that, she turned on her heels and stormed into the crowd. Thomas watched her go, elbowing others out of the way as she did so. She was dressed respectfully but her sharp manor was something else. Finally, she disappeared into the crowd and fell from sign, Thomas decided to carry on with his journey. But as he went to move, his foot trod on something hard. As he moved his boot, he saw he had trodden on a small wooden rosary.

* * *

'Our Lady, the King's Mother's Household employs many young women, Master More,' sighed Lady Stanley, clearly irritated by Thomas questions, 'many of whom are employed as seamstresses,'

'I am aware, Lady Stanley, that you must be very busy,' smiled Thomas, 'but I need to find this lady. It is of great importance,'

Lady Stanley smiled at him, trying not to laugh. Of all the men at Court, Thomas More was the last one she thought would fall under the spell of some common little wench, who worked below stairs. Should she warn him of the dangers of becoming involved? Or should she just step back and wait for the drama to unfold?

'Mistress Matilda Martin, is the lady you need to speak with,' she said, kindly, 'she's in charge of all the girls in service,'

* * *

Matilda Martin was a woman, who took no nonsense from any of the girls under her care. They were in the employment of Lady Margaret Beaufort, the King's Mother after all. A woman of extraordinary strength and virtue, whose courage and faith had placed her only son on the throne of England. All women, thought Matilda Martin, regardless of their class, must follow her example. Any woman caught misbehaving would be instantly dismissed, though if the poor girl had got into trouble, she would be given a generous pension to look after her and the baby; but most of all, the women under her care were forbidden to fraternize with any male employees or members of the court.

'I know the woman you speak of, sir,' said Matilda Martin, her hands on hips, her lips thinning as she didn't take kindly to men making inquiries about her girls, as it could only led to trouble, 'but I won't tell you her name or where to find her,'

'If I may...' Thomas, started but Mistress Martin cut him off.

'No you may not,' she snapped, clicking her fingers at him, 'it is my duty to make sure that my girls are approve reproach. I will not have them corrupted! And I must say, I'm surprised at you, Master More, I thought you of all men would be the last one, to be sniffing around my girls!'

'I'm sure you are very good at your job, Mistress Martin,' replied Thomas, very seriously, while trying to not laugh at Mistress Martin implying that his interest was romantic. The thought of his father's reaction to the woman, who was more outspoken than him, was laughable, as was the notion that his seeking her for reasons that were other than platonic, 'I can assure you I am not here because of the reasons you think. The lady, in question, dropped something that belonged to her in the street earlier and I was hoping to return it to her,'

He held up the tiny wooden rosary, that he had been keeping in his pocket since he found it on the street that morning. As Mistress Martin saw the rosary, her face softened, her thin lips turned into a small smile and her suspicious eyes, turned wide with a kind of sadness.

'That must be the reason for the poor girl's tears,' she sigh, shaking her head, 'it was such a tragedy what happen. Thank you for finding it. I will let her have it next time she comes,'

She held out her hand to take the rosary, but as Thomas went to hand it over, he hesitated. He looked at the small wooden cross, it was clearly very precious to the lady who had shouted at him so passionately in the street.

'If you don't mind, Mistress Martin,' said Thomas, putting the rosary back in his pocket, 'I feel as I am the reason for this poor woman's loss, I should be the one to make it right,'

'Of course,' replied Mistress Martin, talking to him with kindness for the first time, 'she lives in Bucklersbury. You can't miss the house, it's the smallest in the area-though, very clean with flowers outside,'

'Thank you,' smiled Thomas and made to leave, but paused as he reached the door, 'just one more thing, Mistress Martin. The lady's name?'

'Oh, right,' answered Mistress Martin, 'Goodwife Giggs,'


	3. Chapter 3

(Thanks so much for the reviews. Sorry, for not undating sooner-been on holiday. Hope everyone likes this chapter. Please let me know what you think)

He walked up and down the street for over an hour. The church clock, at the end of the road, had long ago struck midnight and the street was all but deserted, except for the odd drunk staging home from the inn. But Thomas didn't notice them, as his eyes were too busy staring at the stars in the night sky. Why had God sent him here? Why didn't he just hand the rosary over to Mistress Martin and let her give it back to the woman-Goodwife Giggs? Why had he felt the need to see this woman, who had made it clear she she disliked the man who had knocked her basket of sewing into the dirt, again? But something had pulled him here tonight.

Finally, he knocked at the door and waited. The house was in darkness and everything was still. For a time, he wondered if he had the right house, as no respectable woman would be out at this time of night but it was the smallest house in Bucklersbury and had flowers round the windows, just as Mistress Martin had said. Thomas knocked at the door again, but still there was no answer. He took the tiny wooden rosary out of his pocket and studied it, before putting it back. It looked like it belonged to a child, probably Goodwife Giggs' son or daughter.

There was still no answer. Maybe he had got the wrong house after all. Thomas turned away, thinking that first thing tomorrow morning, he would hand the rosary over to Mistress Martin and think nothing more of the woman who had shouted at him in the street. But as he turned away, the door creaked open.

'Hello,'

* * *

'Oh, its you!' exclaimed Goodwife Giggs, as she slowly opened the door. In her left hand she held a candle, which lit up her face and Thomas saw for the first time how very beautiful, she was. While she looked at him with the same look of distain, he could see she'd been crying, 'what do you want?'

'I'm sorry, Goodwife Giggs,' stuttered Thomas, finding words hard to come by, 'I know I must be the last person you wish to see but you dropped this,'

As Thomas spoke, he pulled the rosary out from his pocket and held it up. Goodwife Giggs lifted up her candle and looked at the object, wide eyed.

'I wanted to return it myself,' continued Thomas, 'as I thought it might be of some importance,'

Goodwife Giggs did not reply but stood, staring at the rosary. Her body started trembling and tears started rolling down her cheeks.

'It was ten seconds,' she suddenly cried, 'I only turned my back for ten seconds,'

Thomas watched her, not sure how to react, as she repeated the same words over and over again; the woman, who had challenged him so violently in the street, was now hysterical with distress.

'I...,' started Thomas, but before he could say anymore, Goodwife Giggs legs went from beneath her, causing Thomas to catch her before she hit the ground.

* * *

'It was my son's,' said Goodwife Giggs in a whisper, as she looked down at the rosary in her hands. They were now both inside the house, Thomas having got her to a chair by the fire place, before she collapsed and was now lighting candles around the small room.

'Mistress Martin was right,' thought Thomas, as he lit the last of the candles and the room became full of light, 'the house is very clean,'

'I'm sorry,' cried Goodwife Giggs, getting to her feet, 'would you like something to drink? I'm afraid I cannot afford wine, but I have ale,'

'Ale will be fine,' smiled Thomas, as he saw her kiss the small crucifix and place the rosary around her neck, 'would you like me to get it?'

'No, you sit,' she answered, a small hint of sharpness returning to her voice, 'what would the Cardinal say, if he knew I made his favourite fetch his own drink?'

Thomas did what he was told and sat down by the fire. Soon, she returned and handed him a small mug of ale, before sitting down in the chair opposite him. There was silence between the two of them, as they both struggled to think of what to say next. It was Goodwife Giggs who broke the silence.

'Thank you for returning this,' she said, touching the small cross that now hanged around her neck as she spoke, 'I feared it was lost forever,'

'Mistress Martin said you were very distressed,' answered Thomas, looking at her, surprised at the softness her features and how bright her eyes really were, despite the tears that had fallen from them, 'I could see it was important...I must say, you are a very hard woman to track down. I'm surprised Mistress Martin did not have me racked when I asked after you!'

'She's very protective of her girls,' replied Goodwife Giggs with a smile, that lit up her blue eyes even more, 'she doesn't take to kindly to male courtiers praying on her girls,'

'I can assure you, I would do, no such thing,' smiled Thomas, 'I think your husband might not be too happy, if I did,'

'My husband is dead,' she answered with surprising bitterness, as she heard him speak of the man, she had been joined in God's Holy union with. She looked away from Thomas as she spoke and stared hard at the flames, wringing her hands together, as she did so.

'I'm sorry,' said Thomas, 'I did not know,'

'How were you to know?' she said, once again returning to her harsh manor, 'how were you to know that after only two years of marriage, my husband left me. I was an expecting our child and he left me to become a mercenary and get himself killed somewhere in France,'

There was once again a long silence, as they both felt awkward with each other but this time it was Thomas, who broke the stillness.

'I should go,' he said, getting to his feet, 'I seem to cause you nothing but distress,'

'Wait,' she called, as he made his way to the door. Thomas turned back and saw a small, trembling smile on her lips, 'I do not mean to be harsh Master More, but today my son would have been six, if he...'

Goodwife Giggs, once again started to cry and her body started to shake. Thomas, not sure what to do, simply handed her a handkerchief.

'Thank you,' she said, kindly, taking the handkerchief, but it make no difference, as tears continued to tumble from her eyes, 'I hear you are very clever man, Master More. I am not clever, the only education I have is a few letters and my skills with a needle... Can you help me with something?'

'Of course,' answered Thomas, returning to his seat opposite her's, 'though I fear, you give me too much credit,'

'Don't try and humble yourself, Master More. It does you no credit,' she said with a brief smile, 'I am told time is a great healer but to me, time has given me nothing but pain. Every morning when I awake until I close my eyes at night, my heart is constantly heavy as if its being crushed... Why won't it stop?'

Thomas did not know what to say. He had not expected the tough woman, he had seen earlier today, to crumble so before his eyes in heartbreaking pain.

'I do not know, I'm afraid,' answered Thomas, staring at the floor, not able to meet her eyes, 'perhaps if you told me the source of your grief?'

Goodwife Giggs got to her feet and walked over to the corner of the room, where a small trunk sat. Kneeling down before it, she opened it and pulled out a small, well worn jacket. She hugged it against her body, as she sat down on the floor.

'I was so happy when Georgie was born,' she said, looking up at Thomas, who finally managed to meet her eyes, 'I didn't care that it was just me and him. It was better that way. My husband was a brute. He was a terrible husband and he would have made a terrible father. I worked every hour God sent, to give me and my little boy a good life. Mistress Martin use to let me taking him to work with me. My father helped, as much as he could and my cousin, who stays when he and his father have fallen out, used to look after him, so I could have some time to myself. I was happy. We were happy. He was such a good boy,'

'I'm sure he was,'

'We were coming back from Eltham Palace,' continued Goodwife Giggs, 'we'd just got off the barge. Georgie ran on ahead, the way he always did but he always stayed in my sight. There was a woman selling apples. I turned away to buy some. By the Holy Virgin, I swear my back was only turned for ten seconds. There was a bang, followed by screams and shouts. I knew instantly it was Georgie. I dropped everything and ran to where a crowd of people were stood and pushed my way through them. Then I saw him, my poor little Georgie lying under the wheels of a cart, his small body was all twisted and broken...he was...'

Goodwife Giggs could not finish her story, as her sobs grew even stronger. Thomas, feeling this poor woman's grief in his heart, went over to her and sat down next to her. Slowly, he placed an arm round her shivering shoulders but as he did so, she turned herself towards him, placing an arm round his waist and resting her head on his chest. Thomas jumped as he felt her body against his but did not move and held her closer to him.

'I was my fault,' she cried, softly into his chest, 'it was all my fault and I blame myself everyday but the pain is so bad, that sometimes I can't breathe. I prayer to God and the Virgin to easy my suffering and for a time I feel comfort, but then I feel the knife once again in my heart.

'We all have to atone for our sins,' said Thomas, after pondering her words, 'but God is not punishing you for your son's death, its you who is putting the knife in your heart. God, the Virgin and the Saints do not blame you for what happened, that's why you feel comfort when you prayer to them. It's now you, who has to forgive yourself,'

The room was silent, the only noise being the crackle of the flames from the fire, as Thomas noticed he was softly stroking her hair.

'Do you really think so?' she asked, hugging him.

'I do,'

'_Gloria Patri, et Filio, et Spiritui Sancto, __Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper, et in saecula saeculorum. Amen' _said Goodwife Giggs, her voice now sounding much clearer and stronger. As she 'amen,' she kissed the small cross of her son's rosary.

'_Amen,'_echoed Thomas. Goodwife Giggs looked up at him as he did, a small smile on her lips. Their eyes locked for a moment and neither one of them moved.

* * *

'It is late,' muttered Thomas, taking his hand away from her shoulders, feeling embarrassed by their closeness, as did Goodwife Giggs, who got quickly to her feet.

'Yes,' she said, moving towards the door, her hands playing frantically with her hair, 'I'm a respectable woman. What would my neighbours say, if they knew I was alone with a man at this ungodly hour?'

'No...yes,' joined in Thomas, heading towards the door also. He was clearly just as flustered and it took some time before he managed to get the door open, 'well, goodnight, Goodwife Giggs,'

'Goodnight, Master More,' replied Goodwife Giggs, lingering a moment, before shutting the door, leaving Thomas alone in the street with the stars.


	4. Chapter 4

(Big thank you to Angel More and SSLE for your lovely reviews. I was so honoured. They made me so happy. Thomas More (and Anne Boleyn) is the reasons I first fell in love with history-I cried when my teacher first told me about him, when we did the Tudors at primary school. I've been wanting to write something involving More for ages but found it hard to get it right. Hope everyone likes this chapter. Ps have made Henry a bit younger than what he should be and from the souces I've found Margaret's mother was called Olive, but changed it to Lucy as I just see her as being one in this story :))

'Harry,' said Thomas, as sharply as he could manage, 'have you been listening to a word I've said?'

'Of course,' answered the young prince, staring up at his tutor, 'after ten years of fighting, the Greeks decided to trick the Trojans into gaining entry to their city. Then they committed mass slaughter and put the women into slavery,'

'And the moral of the tale?' asked Thomas, sitting down next to his pupil, under the shade of a tree. He had hoped bringing their lessons outside would help Henry concentrate, but it had the opposite effect and Henry was daydreaming of knights and glory more than usual.

'Beware Greeks bearing gifts?' replied Henry, with a lazy smile, knowing Thomas could never be angry with him.

'Close enough,' sighed Thomas, pulling his hat over his head, as he tried to think were to go next with their lesson.

'Thomas,' said the young prince in a serious tone, 'do you think I'll make a good King?'

'Of course,' replied Thomas, taking the hat off his head and looking over at his young charge, who was picking at the blades of grass, 'if you remember everything that the I and Cardinal have taught you,'

'My father does not think so,' continued Henry, flicking at the broken blades of grass, 'he sees me as a poor replacement for Arthur,'

Thomas smiled at the young prince, who was in his care, despite Henry VII strong distrust of him. The King liked men of action, who did not question, who simply followed their King's instructions. Not like Thomas More, who questioned everyone and everything. He hoped he would teach the prince to be the same and to become a King, who would put his people's needs, before his own-unlike his father, but Thomas could not tell Henry that.

'Your father just misses Prince Arthur, Harry,' said Thomas, as he saw the image of Goodwife Giggs from the night before, play before his eyes, 'I don't think part of you ever get's over the pain of losing a child,'

Henry was silent for a moment, his mind working slowly. Despite the fact that Henry was obsessed by jousting, (which he was banned from doing), horse riding and dancing, he was extremely clever and could, when he wasn't daydreaming, put his mind to good work.

'Can we go for a walk, Thomas,' asked Henry, getting to his feet, 'I promise, I'll study hard this afternoon,'

Thomas nodded his head in agreement and as he got to his feet as well, he vowed to hold Henry to his promise.

* * *

The two of them walked through the gardens of Eltham Palace, which were all but deserted, except for a few servants, who would bow or curtsey before Henry, before continuing with their work. They walked in silence, as Henry was still thinking hard on Thomas words- he so wanted to be a good King and one that would make a difference to his people and to England.

'We are friends,' Henry asked, breaking himself away from his thoughts, 'are we not, Thomas?'

'Of course,'

'Then,' said Henry, stopping briefly, 'when I am King, I will make you proud of me. I swear,'

'I'm sure you will, Harry,' replied Thomas, confident that his pupil would one day be the greatest King in Christendom, 'I'm sure your will,'

They walked on for a bit longer, the sun shining down on the both of them.

'Tell me again, about the place where everyone is equal, Thomas,'

Thomas smiled as Henry mentioned his favourite subject. He was never sure, if Henry brought up the subject of Thomas' mythical community, which he often though on, because he enjoyed hearing about it or because he knew once Thomas started talking, he would forget about everything else.

'Its called Utopia,' said Thomas, deciding that Henry was genuinely interested, as he smiled with interest as his tutor spoke, 'and is an island, which contains fifty-four towns,'

'Why's it called Utopia?'

'Well,' answered Thomas, 'if you listened during our Latin and Greek lessons, you'll be able to tell me,'

'Oh,' said Henry, cursing himself under his breath, 'so how have they made everyone equal?'

'Everything is debated and decided by the people at all levels. They have no private property. People have what they need in line with their needs-no one had more or less than anyone else. No one starves...'

* * *

But as before, Thomas had once again, to quote his father, had his head in the clouds, so neither he nor Henry who was listening so intently to Thomas words, noticed the servant carrying a bundle of dirty dresses coming down the path towards them.

'Oh my, I'm so sorry,' cried Thomas, as he knocked into the woman, sending the dresses on top of the pile to the ground, causing Henry to laugh. He leant over and went to pick up of the finely made dress.

'You seem determined to knock me flying, Master More,'

Thomas jumped and dropped the dress, he had just picked up, as he saw Goodwife Giggs staring back at him. This time though, her face wore a bright smile and her blue eyes were sparkling in the sun.

'I...I did not see you there,' said Thomas, stunned to see her but happy that she now seemed to have found some peace in her heart.

'Clearly,' she smiled, leaning over to pick up one of the dresses, as Thomas did the same.

'Thank you for listening to me last night,' she continued, as her and Thomas reached for the same red dress, 'it was nice to have someone listen to my troubles,'

'I was more than happy to help,' answered Thomas, returning her smile. In the brightness of the midday sun, both still felt some of the uneasiness that had been between them when they had parted last night, but the memory of the brief moment just before, when their eyes had connected, was stronger in both of their minds.

'Thomas,' interrupted Henry, moving himself so that he was now stood between Thomas and Goodwife Giggs, 'who's your friend?'

'Oh my...,' exclaimed Goodwife Giggs, dropping all of the dresses she was carrying, as she fell into a curtsey, 'forgive me your majesty. I didn't see you standing there,'

Henry laughed as he saw the flustered look on the lady's face. She was very pretty, he thought, but not as pretty as poor Catalina, his brother's widow, who his father had banished to live in poverty in Durham House. Though, as Henry looked at his tutor's, it was clear who Thomas would choose. He watched the way they acted with each other-it was the way adults always acted when they had secrets that they did not want others to know. They would look briefly at each other with smiles, then turn away to look at the ground before meeting each other's eyes again.

'Your forgiven,' laughed Henry, as the lady straightened up, 'Thomas are you going to introduce me to your friend?'

'Your majesty...' started Thomas, but Goodwife Giggs answered Henry for him.

'Lucy, your majesty,' she smiled, but at Thomas, not the prince, 'my name's Lucy,'

'Prince Henry, this is Lucy Giggs. She is in the service of your Grandmother,' continued Thomas, meeting Lucy's smile, 'though I seem to be doing everything in my power to hinder her employment,'

'Don't worry. These dress are already dirty and on their way to the laundry,' said Lucy, picking up the dresses, as she spoke, 'besides, as you said so yourself, Master More, we have had no rain all summer, so they can't get muddy,'

* * *

'So,' said Henry, sitting down at his desk with a thump, as he did not want to be back inside the Palace, 'is she the girl, you're going to marry?'

'Homer's _Odyssey_,' answered Thomas, placing the book down on the desk, 'read the first two pages, then read it back to me in English,'

'Oh, but Greek is so boring,' sulked Henry, pushing the book away, 'and you did not answer my question,'

'A Humanist King knows all the ancient languages,' replied Thomas, sitting down at his desk, just opposite Henry's, 'and as a subject of a Humanist King, I am free to decline answering your question,'

'But my father is King,' smiled Henry, 'and he's no Humanist ...Besides, we're friends, Thomas,'

'Harry...' Thomas started, but he noticed a messenger in the doorway, 'come in,'

The messenger handed Thomas a slip of paper, which he read in silence as Henry looked on, eagerly wanting an answer to his question.

'I have to see Cardinal Wolsey,' said Thomas, getting to his feet and making his way to the door. As he turned his back, Henry silently cheered, hoping it would mean the end of lessons today and he could go riding, not realising that Thomas' knew exactly what he was thinking, 'remember Harry, the first two pages,'

* * *

'Thomas,' remarked Cardinal Wolsey, not looking up from his writing, 'if you are just going to sit there and saying nothing, then you might as well return to the monastery,'

'I'm sorry,' answered Thomas, realising he'd been staring out of the window of Eltham Palace, instead of listening to the Cardinal's worries about the King's plan to further increase taxes. He had been trying to think of away to get Prince Henry, interested in Greek, but had found that he was actually thinking about Lucy, as he saw her walk back through the garden, carrying another bundle of clothes 'you were saying?'

'I believe I was discussing the King's plan to increase taxes,' continued the Cardinal, still not looking up from his paper work, 'but I believe you were too busy letting your mind wander on to subjects that are of the female persuasion,'

'The King cannot increase taxes,' said Thomas, getting up from his seat by the window and moving over to the bookshelf and taking out the first book, his fingers touched, 'the people of this country are already so burdened with taxes, that an increase would see the majority starve,'

'First rule of politics, Thomas. Never ignore a question,'

'It was a statement,' replied Thomas, opening the book, 'not a question,'

'Well then, never ignore a statement either,'

Wolsey looked up from his papers for the first time and glanced at Thomas, who was now leaning against the wall, looking through the pages of the book. He, like most people who met Thomas, found they couldn't help but like him. Despite his seriousness, he also possessed a quick sense of humour that was helpful in difficult situations-even with Henry VII, a man not noted for his sense of humour. He was easy going and unlike the other men who walked around court with an air of arrogance, as though they were born to rule, Thomas would walk round the corridors of power in a casual manor. But most of all, what Wolsey admired the most about Thomas, and it was also the same aspect of Thomas' character, which caused Wolsey the most concern, was the fact that Thomas never did anything that went against his conscience.

'You must have heard, Thomas, that despite my cardinal robes, I am only too aware of the flaws in men, particularly when it comes to women,' said Wolsey, knowing that there no point in hiding his own weakness when it came to the fairer sex, 'I am not a saint, Thomas, though I feel sometimes you need reminding that neither are you. Now, tell me, was it the girl whose to be your wife, who your mind was thinking on or a certain Royal Seamstress,'

Thomas eyes flew up from the pages he was reading and stared at the Cardinal, who head was once again bent over his writing.

'How did you...'

'Second, rule of politics, make sure you know everything,' remarked Wolsey, signing the bottom of the paper, before looking up at Thomas, 'you really should be careful, leaving a woman's home at that time of night. People will get the wrong impression...She's a nice girl, Lucy Giggs. Too young to have suffered the misfortune she has...She came to see me once, asking for help, after it became clear that husband of hers was lying dead on a foreign field somewhere... Feisty too. Refused to leave here until she got what she wanted...Nothing like you docile, little fiancée I imagine...Amazing what some men find attractive in a woman,'

It was true, Lucy was nothing like Jane. Jane would be the wife, who simply did what she was told, while he could see Lucy as someone not afraid to speak her mind and answered back. Jane was simply to work out and understand, but there was more to Lucy than the image she presented to the world. Despite her instance to the contrary, he could see she was indeed very clever and given the chance, she could match him in debate.

'If you'll excuse me,' said Thomas, realising he shouldn't be thinking those thoughts, 'I should be getting back to the young Prince,'

'Of course, ' smiled the Cardinal, returning to his papers, 'but just a word of warning, Thomas. If you should find yourself Bucklersbury tonight, which I have a hunch you will, be careful. I'm not the only one with informants all over the city,'

He watched as Thomas looked at him with a raised eyebrow before leaving, with a brief nod of the head.

'And you will be seeing her tonight,' muttered Wolsey, as he signed another document, 'and you better heed my warning, Thomas, because Lord knows what your father will do if he finds you've gone soft on an common seamstress!'


	5. Chapter 5

(Thanks for all the reviews-they mean so much. Hope you all like this chapter. RIP Thomas More)

'Remember, Thomas,' said his sister, Elizabeth, as she placed some bread down on the table, 'be nice,'

'I'm always nice,' replied Thomas, not looking up from his writing at first, but then he suddenly felt panic across his chest as a thought suddenly struck him, 'why? Am I not?'

'Yes,' smiled Elizabeth, sitting down next to her brother and placing an arm round his shoulder, 'but poor Jane does not want to hear about Latin or Greek or how the King's Court is the right place for an honest man,'

'But it is,' insisted Thomas with a passion, before fleeing slightly embarrassed, as his sister tried not laugh, 'sorry,'

'Don't be sorry, Thomas,' said Elizabeth, kissing him on the cheek, 'it's who you are, but not everyone feels as passionately about things as you do. So just try to be a bit more understanding. You can always talk to her father about your theories but leave Jane out of it,'

* * *

Unfortunately, Jane's father could not make this evening and his place was taken by Jane's mother, who spent the whole meal listening to Thomas and Elizabeth's stepmother complaining about her marriage to their father, while Elizabeth tried to talk to Jane, who kept smiling nervously at Thomas. Thomas, meanwhile sat there quietly, picking at his food as he sat deep in thought, but it was not about Latin or Greek his mind was thinking on, but on the lady he had spent the previous evening with. He wondered what Lucy would be doing this evening, was she with her family-did she have family? She had mentioned her father and a cousin-was she with them or was she sat at home by herself...

'Thomas,' John More's businesslike tone, brought his son away from his thoughts, 'are you going to say anything to Jane,'

'I'm sorry,' said Thomas, realising the whole table was looking at him and Jane, who was looking down at her plate, blushing, 'Jane, are you enjoying your meal?'

'Its..its...its,' she stuttered, trying to look at her future husband, 'it's very nice, thank you,'

'Jane was telling,' rescued Elizabeth, 'that she likes to grow flowers,'

'Well,' interrupted their father, 'she won't be able to that, once she moves to London,'

'She could always grow them in a window box,' said Thomas, thinking about the flowers Lucy had by her window. Jane smiled and mouthed 'thank you,' to him. There was a brief silence as Thomas thought of something to say, only when he thought of Lucy did he think of something, 'do you sew, Jane?'

'No,' mourned Jane, hanging her head briefly, before turning to look at Thomas, 'but I could learn,'

'Do you want to?'

'If you want me to,' she pleaded, a desperate smile on her thin lips as she so wanted to please her future husband.

'Learning should be something your mind wants to do, Jane,' said Thomas, kindly, not wanting to upset her, 'not be forced to do,'

'I'm sorry,' replied Jane, trying to stop tears appearing in her eyes, 'but I do not understand,'

The whole table was once gain silent and all eyes were on the future husband and wife, who looked so ill at ease together. Elizabeth smiled, feeling sorry for the both of them, as did Jane's mother.

'I told you he'll be as good as husband as his father,' snapped Thomas' step-mother, 'that is to say useless!'

'Oh, shut up woman,' replied John More, before returning to his meal, hoping that his son and future daughter-in-law would make this future marriage alliance work.

* * *

Thomas was nervous as he walked towards Bucklersbury. It was not Wolsey's word, which made him uneasy, as there was nothing between him and Lucy that needed hiding, but there was something about the feelings that brought him here that unnerved him.

He had left home, telling Elizabeth he needed some air, feeling guilty over what had occurred at dinner. Jane was trying so hard but she couldn't change herself, no matter how much she wanted to please everyone and he couldn't change who he was either.

'Alright, alright, I'm coming,' he heard Lucy call, in that sharp manor of her's, in response to his knock at her door, 'if that's you, Goodwife Osmond, I've told you a thousand times, that blocked drain is not my problem! And I meant what I said-I'll shove your...oh!'

'Do you always greet your callers with such charm?' smiled Thomas, forgetting his nerves as he saw the look of shock on Lucy's face, change to a bright smile.

'Only the ones I'm expecting,' she replied, crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame. She hadn't had the benefit of Cardinal Wolsey's great foresight and had not expected any visitors tonight, so she had unpinned her hair and had been sat in front of the fire, repairing some of her old dresses. It had been a shock to find that for the second night running, her evening had been disturbed by a knock at door, 'so what has brought you to my door this evening, Master More'

'I was wondering,' started Thomas, finding it hard to look at Lucy as he asked this question, 'if you were free, if you would care to go for a walk...and its Thomas,'

* * *

'Thank you once again for last night,' said Lucy, taking hold of Thomas' arm as the two of them walked alongside the river, 'no one ever wants to listen to me talk about Georgie, especially my father. He goes all quiet and starts talking about his bloody inn, the moment I mention his grandson,'

'I was glad I could be of some service,' replied Thomas, happy that he had helped ease her pain, 'your father runs an inn?'

'_The Agincourt_, we pasted it a few streets ago,' smiled Lucy, 'so, I'm afraid, you are in the company of a tavern keeper's daughter,'

'I thought that was your parenting,'

'Are you saying I'm common,' snapped Lucy, pulling her hand away and standing there in the middle to the street with her hands on hips, flicking a strand of hair as she as she shook her head, 'cause...'

'No,' laughed Thomas, 'because I can clearly see that you're a woman, whose capable of looking after herself,'

'Oh!' explained Lucy, feeling a bit embarrassed, 'well, yes. I am tough. Well when you're not clever, you have to be,'

'Actually, Lucy,' replied Thomas softly, meeting Lucy's gaze, 'I think you do yourself a disservice. I believe you are very clever,'

There was silence for a moment, as Lucy thought over Thomas words. She had been told many things in her twenty-four years in this world but clever had never been one. Not even her father, who adored her, would have described her as clever. Bright maybe-but never clever.

'Thomas,' she asked, her tone now serious as she thought of something that had been playing in the back of her mind all evening, 'why are you here?'

In honesty, Thomas was not sure himself, why he had ended up on Lucy's doorstep that evening. Or why, throughout dinner, he had been talking with Jane had he once again been comparing her with Lucy. Jane was the one his father had commanded him to marry and it was her who would be his wife, so why would Lucy be playing on his mind?

'I had dinner with my fiancée tonight,' answered Thomas, looking briefly at Lucy, before turning away and looking up at the stars.

'Oh,' replied Lucy, feeling slightly uneasy at the mention of a fiancée, though like Thomas, she didn't really understand why, 'I didn't know,'

'There was no reason why you should,' smiled Thomas, looking away from the stars briefly before turning back to them, 'do you not think the stars are the most beautiful things in existence?'

Lucy looked at him, puzzled at his change of conversation. She went to say something, but before she had a chance to speak, Thomas placed an arm round her shoulder and pulled her to him.

'You see that star there,' he continued, pointing to the brightest star in the sky, 'that's the North Star. It's the brightest star in the sky and the one Columbus used to guide him to the new world. All sailors use it as their guide, as the star never moves,'

'I didn't know that,' said Lucy, softly, resting her head on Thomas' shoulder, 'I've spent almost every day of my life since I was fifteen, stitching diamonds, pearls, rubies-all kinds of precious stones on to dresses. You name it, I've sewn it on to fabric that's worth more than everything I own. But I still think that the stars are more stunning than any of those jewels,'

'The only reason those things have worth, is because we give them value,' said Thomas seriously, 'if we took it away, they would lose their worth and there be no difference between, say gold and wood,'

'Imagine cooking with a gold pot, but then again, I wouldn't pay any attention to it, would I?'

'Exactly,'

'And if things had been different, I could spend my days sewing pebbles on to dresses, while the children in the yard play marbles with the rubies,'

'I suppose so, yes,' laughed Thomas, happy that she had taken an interest, where others would have just laughed. Lucy joined in and they turn in towards each other, but as with the closeness they shared last night, when they realised how near their bodies were to each other, they pulled away and carried on walking.

'What's she like,' asked Lucy, slowly, chewing on her bottom lip as she spoke, 'your fiancée?'

They stopped one again, this time by a bridge, that leads to the south side of the city. Lucy walked over to the side of the bridge and looked down at the Thames. Thomas watched her for a moment, not sure why the subject of Jane would cause such distance between the two of them.

'She's nothing like you, Lucy' he said, joining her at the side of the bridge, 'she's shy and sweet,'

Lucy bent over and picked up a small stone, before dropping it into the murky waters and listening to the sound of it hitting the water.

'You're right,' she laughed, 'she's nothing like me. So what's wrong with her?'

'I did not say there was anything wrong with her,'

'No,' said Lucy, staring hard at the water, 'then why are you here, with a woman, who I imagination your family would see as a common little trollop and not with not with...what's her name?'

'Jane,' answered Thomas, taking off his hat and running the rim nervously around his fingers, 'she very pleasing, will do what anyone ever requests off her... She has no options of her own,'

'I though that's what every man looks for in a woman,' Lucy smiled, taking Thomas hat out of his hands and placing it on her head, 'lord knows, my husband would have been happier, if I had learnt to keep my mouth shut and do as he told me to do,'

'Then your husband was a fool,' replied Thomas, meeting her smile. But as he reclaimed his hat, he quickly adding, 'sorry,'

'My husband was many thing,' laughed Lucy, looking at Thomas and taking hold of his hand, 'a fool being one them. Come let walk to the end of the bridge and then go back, as I think it might rain,'

* * *

Lucy was right. When they were about two streets from her home, the heavens opened and rain poured down on them. Thomas' handed Lucy his cape, before the two of them ran through streets to Lucy's home. As they reached her house, they both sheltered in the little porch that jutted out from the house and started to laugh.

'I hope you stop walking into me now, Thomas' laughed Lucy, brushing a strand of soaked hair away from her face, 'otherwise, I will be getting muddy,'

'I give you my word,' smiled Thomas, 'that I will stop having my head in the clouds,'

'No,' said Lucy, seriously, her eyes staring straight into Thomas, 'don't do that. I don't think you do have your head in the clouds. I think everything you say makes perfect sense,'

She held out the dripping wet cape to Thomas, who was surprised at Lucy's words after what others had told him this evening. He gently took the cape from Lucy, who moved to open her front door but as she did, her the heel of her shoe got caught between the few cobbles that made a kind of doorstep and she fell, as her heel snapped; this time though, instead of being the one to have sent her flying, it was Thomas who caught her.

'Thank you,' she laughed, grabbing hold of Thomas, as he held her around her waist. They stood there for a moment, still holding on to each other, when suddenly the front door flew open and a man in his late forties appeared on the doorstep, causing them both to jump apart.

'Lucy!'

'Father!' cried Lucy, limping over to him and kissing him on the cheek, 'I didn't think you'd be coming round tonight,'

'So I see,' muttered the man, holding the candle he was carrying, up at Thomas, who felt nervous under the hard gaze of this man. He had the same blue eyes as Lucy but his were sunken from years of hard work and were glaring violently at Thomas.

'Father,' said Lucy with a smile, as she grab hold of Thomas' sleeve, 'this is Thomas More...'

'I know who he is,' he muttered, his eyes shooting darts at Thomas as he spoke, 'what I want to know, is why he had his arms round my daughter's waist,'

'I was showing him the block drain that's causing so much trouble and I slipped,'

'Mmm at this time of night?'

'Yes father, at this time of night,' replied Lucy, taking her father's arm and leading him into the house, before returning to Thomas, 'sorry, I would ask you in but I think my father's likely to clobber you one,'

'I should be going,' smiled Thomas, realising that Elizabeth was probably wondering where he had got to, 'thank you for a pleasant evening,'

'Thank you too, Master More,'

Thomas nodded his head and turned to leave, but then as he walked out into the rain, he paused and looked back.

'Lucy, does Mistress Martin ever let you...'

'Does she ever let us have a break?' interrupted Lucy with a smile, 'she gives a half an hour at midday, but if you want to see me, you'll have to be careful, cause she'll have you in the Tower if she catches you with one of her girls,'


	6. Chapter 6

(Thanks again for the lovely reviews. Am a bit unsure about this chapter-please let me know what you think. Hope you enjoy)

'I never knew this part of the garden was here,' said Lucy, looking around the small hidden corner of the grand gardens of Eltham Palace, in which she now found herself. It was only a few meters wide, surrounded in part by trees and a high stone wall. Stood in the main part of the garden, it was hard to imagine that between the trees and wall anything existed.

'Harry took me here one day,' replied Thomas, looking around, before turning to smile at Lucy, who had laid her shawl down on the ground by the wall and was now sitting down on it, 'it's where he comes, when his trying to escape his grandmother,'

Lucy stretched out her limbs, feeling them ache after being sat on a small, uncomfortable stool, sewing all morning. It was hot in the small room too and she was glad to be free and outside, having told one of the other girls that she was walking into the village, to see if she could get some more thread. Technically, it wasn't that much of a lie, as every break she had had that week, had walked into Eltham with Thomas, but today they had stayed within the Palace grounds.

'Your very fond of him, aren't you,' said Lucy, stretching her arms down to her knees then touching her ankles, before lifting her head in a panic, as she realised who she was talking about, 'the Prince, I mean,'

Thomas laughed, as he sat down next to her. He had left Henry having lunch with his grandmother, much to the annoyance of Henry, who had loved the Lady Margaret Beaufort with all his heart, but found that once Arthur had died, she had taken over all most ever aspect of his young life.

'He's a good boy,' said Thomas, looking up at the sky, 'and I believe that one day, he will changes this country for the better, putting right the wrongs of the past. When Harry is King, England for the first time will be governed for the interests of the people, not for the whims of a King,'

'With your help, of course,' smiled Lucy, moving her body, so that she was now lying down on the shawl and staring up at the sky, 'anyway I though you told me, you can't get to Heaven on a feathered bed,'

'God did not mean us to lead our lives in luxury, Lucy, but at the same time no one should have to starve to death, when there is food going spare' replied Thomas, looking down at Lucy, who propped herself up on her elbows, ' anyway, I'm only play a small part in the Prince's education. It's Cardinal Wolsey, who's the really key to the future,'

'Why then, is the rumour going around that you're the one who the King himself is frightened of?' replied Lucy, closing her eyes against the sun, 'I don't understand, why you all ways make a thing about being modest?'

'Because vanity is pride and if a man is said to be proud, he wishes to appear above what God made him,' answered Thomas, remembering the fear he had of Hell, which was installed in him as a child, 'even the Greeks viewed pride and vanity as a sin, as they saw it as man trying to set himself above the Gods,'

Lucy laughed, though not because she was being cruel. She had witnessed many men walk through the doors of her father's tavern over the years, many of them guilty of all different crimes, which the Lord above would frown upon, (not to mention the crimes her departed husband was guilty of), and when compared with them, vanity was no great offence.

'So do I sin with always trying to dress nice,' smiled Lucy, picking a blade of grass and throwing it at Thomas, who caught it in his hand.

'It depends on your reasons for doing so,' said Thomas, turning to look at her with a serious look on his face, though Lucy could see he was trying to smile, 'if you dress nice because you want attention or to show off to others, then yes, but if you...'

'If I dress nice because this just happens to be the way I dress, is that a sin?'

'Well...' started Thomas, 'I think you dress nice, because that's who you are,'

Looking at Thomas, Lucy raised an eyebrow, not sure how to take this remark. If it had been anyone else she would have taken it as attempt at flirting but with Thomas, she wasn't so sure.

'My father still insistence on spending every evening with me,' said Lucy, changing the subject as she sat up, 'it's a wonder that bloody inn has taken any money this week,'

It had been a week, since Lucy's father had seen the two of them laughing on her doorstep, after Thomas had stopped Lucy from falling. Since then, he had spent every night with his only daughter, making sure that Thomas was nowhere near her. It made Lucy laugh but it also drove her mad at the same time; as despite loving her father with all her heart, having to spend every night with him watching her every move made her feel as she was still a child, being punished for being naughty.

'It cannot be easy for him,' replied Thomas, 'having his only child living alone, in another part of town. Did he never offer you back your old room?'

'Of course, as soon as I received a message saying that John wasn't coming back and father was knocking on my door, begging me to come home,'

'And you did not go?' said Thomas with shock, as he thought about his relationship with his own father.

'I had Georgie and a home of my own, I weren't about to give that up,'

'But he's your father,' insisted Thomas, who when his father had ordered him home, he had straightaway obeyed, 'you should always honour him,'

'May remind you, that my father has threaten, every night this week, to break your nose if he see you anywhere near me,' smiled Lucy, wondering if her father was going to meet her off the barge again tonight and then stay with her until it was late and clear she would not be getting any visitors, 'beside I always do what I'm told. I married John because my father told me to...John's a good man, Lucy, he said, he's a kind man, who will look after you,'

'Your father probably thought he was doing what was right for you,' said Thomas, quietly, looking down out the ground as he spoke as he was not sure how Lucy would take his remark, as although she had never to him details about her marriage, he guessed from her remarks that it was anything but happy. Though this did not change Thomas' mind. The Lord had declared we must 'honour thy father and thy mother,' and that was one of the ways in which we must led a good life.

'Didn't he just,' replied Lucy, bitterly but then changed her voice back to her normal tone, 'my father likes to think that running a tavern has made him able to judge people's character. It hasn't...he thinks you are nothing but trouble...cause why would someone of your status, be spending time with the likes of me,'

'For one thing,' smiled Thomas, looking straight at her and seeing her eyes shining brightly in the sun, 'I genuinely enjoy speaking with you,'

'You don't think I'm a nagging shrew,' she laughed, throwing her head back, 'that's what John always thought I was...I think my father is wrong, Thomas, I think it's you whose good and kind,'

Lucy paused a moment, before leaning forward and kissing Thomas on the cheek. She wasn't sure why she did it, she usually made a point of never trusting any man after what happened with her husband. But despite the fact she found Thomas had to work out, he treated her with something no one else had-respect.

But while Lucy wasn't sure why she displayed affection, nor could Thomas explain why, as he felt Lucy's lips against his skin, that he turned his head so that when Lucy pulled away their lips were almost touching.

They had had brief moments over the pasted week when they had been close but now near as close to each other as they now were. This time, instead of moving away, they pulled each other closer. Lucy placed an arm round Thomas neck, turning her body towards him, as she felt his hand gently on the side of her face. But as their lips gently grazed each other, a rustle in the trees surrounding caused them to quickly part.

'I'm sorry,' mumbled Thomas, pulling away and getting to his feet, 'I'm sorry, we should be getting back,'

He realised then why he had been drawn to Lucy. He liked being with her because she listened to him and answered him back - they could talk and argue, but at the same time understand each other. Though now he saw for the first time that underneath their friendship was the sins of temptation and lust.

'_To love then, and to be beloved, was sweet to me; but more, when I obtained to enjoy the person I loved. I defiled, therefore, the spring of friendship with the filth of concupiscence, and I beclouded its brightness with the hell of lustfulness,'_

Was that why his mind was always thinking on her and her bright blue eyes? That he liked seeing her smile and hearing her laugh and why, above all else, did he enjoy the brief moments when their bodies, not just their minds, were close together?

'Thomas, you ok?' asked Lucy, concerned, getting to her feet and going over to him. She tried to slip her hand into his but he pulled away, fighting the urge at the same time to take it, 'it was just a kiss...not even that,'

'It does not matter what is or could have been,' interrupted Thomas, panicking that they need to back round others, 'it's still a sin in God's eyes,'

'But we haven't done anything wrong!' insisted Lucy, still looking at Thomas with a mixture of concern and confusion, 'it wouldn't have led to anything...It's not as if my husband is still alive or you are married,'

God, Jane! He hadn't even thought of her. No, he had been thinking of her, but only when he was comparing her to Lucy, in which Lucy was always the winner. And surely wanting one woman, when you were promised to another was against the laws of God?

'I'm sorry, Lucy, but I do not think it's wise we see each other anymore,' Thomas said quietly, staring at the ground before turning to look up at Lucy, who was looking back at him opened mouth, 'I spoke the truth when I said I enjoyed speaking with you but I fear the more we are together, the more we are likely to ruin everything and ourselves...not just for the world to come but for the here and now. To lead a good life, you need to be pure...'

'You think I'm a sin!' she gasped, feeling anger starting to boil in her, 'or is it that I'm full of sin?'

'No,' replied Thomas, trying to grab Lucy's hand but stopping himself. It didn't make any difference anyway, as Lucy moved quickly away from him, 'it's just being with you...'

'Being with me what?' she snapped, looking back at him, 'oh wait I understand-I make you realise that you are simply human with all the flaws that other men have. You actually did want to kiss me, didn't you? Well let me tell you some, I actually wanted to kiss you! Not because I'm some wanton Jezebel-because if you actually think that about me, then you really don't know me at all-but because I actually believed you respected me. Maybe I should have listened to my father, cause you've just hurt me, more than my husband ever did!'

'Lucy, please!' started Thomas, but it was to late. Lucy had already grabbed her shawl and stormed off back through the trees and to the Palace.

* * *

Cardinal Wolsey walked through the palace corridors the way he always did-as if he was born to rule. Even the fact he had just been given a dressing down by the King's Mother, over his inability to install discipline in the young Prince, who had once again disappeared at the time when she wished to give Henry one of her speeches about the importance of Kingship, did not alter Wolsey's mind. One day, when Henry was King, all this would be his. Still Lady Margaret Beaufort was a woman who could argue with the Devil himself and win, so after their latest confrontation he was in need of some air.

He walked into the courtyard and smiled as he noticed the effect his presence had on the servants, who would fall to their kness as he walked passed. Not that he looked down on those who now bowed down to him, because of their low birth, as he was only the son of an Ipswich butcher but because he had discovered something that most had not-which was that one, regardless of their origins could rise to great heights, if they intellect and conviction to do so.

'Open, god damned you!' shouted a female voice, bring Wolsey out of his thoughts. He looked round to see a young female trying desperately to get a side door into the Palace open. Wolsey smiled, as he recognised the lady and had a hunch that her annoyance had really, very little to do with her inability to open the door and more to do with the man, who seemed to now spend large amounts of time in her company.

'Allow me, Goodwife Giggs,' he smiled, as Lucy stood back and with only a small touch from Wolsey, the door flew opened, 'try opening doors the right way and you'll find life a lot easier,'

'Yeah, well,' she snapped, not realising who the man next to her was just yet, 'you don't get to Heaven on a feathered bed...sorry your Eminence,'

Wolsey laughed as Lucy bowed her head, her face blushing red with embarrassment, but it was not that which caused his laughter-it was her words. It was clear who she'd just come from talking with. He knew, from his informants and from what he had seen with his own eyes, that Thomas had been spending time with this woman, though Wolsey suspected from what he had seen of the two and from what he knew of Thomas' character, their relationship was innocent. But he also knew that they were both only human.

Lucy made to leave, but as she went to enter the Palace, Wolsey grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her back.

'A word of advice, Goodwife Giggs, ' he said, in a low whisper, 'I'm sure your relationship with Master More is nowhere near reach the stage of consummation, but whatever the nature of your relationship, you should be aware, that Thomas, when it comes to the great matters in his life, always acts under the guidance of another. And it is not God, Jesus or the Holy Spirit, he listen's too-it's his father,'

'Thank you for your concern,' replied Lucy, 'but I fail to see what all this has to do with me?'

'Because my dear, John More is a man who has worked hard all his life to bring his family into a position of power and respect. He has worked hard also, making sure that his eldest son is in a great position to carry on his work. Part of his plan is for his son to marrying into a family who can help with those ambitions, so he will not stand by and let Thomas throw in his lot with a woman, who stitches up hems of dresses for a living,'

'Well let me put your mind at easy,' answered Lucy sharply, 'I have been a widow since the age of eighteen and I rather enjoy the freedom it gives me, so I am not about to throw it away on some romantic notion,'

'I am simply warning you, my dear,'

'Thank you but I don't need your warnings. Now if you'll excuse me, your Eminence, hems won't sew themselves!'

Wolsey watched her go, her feet stomping hard on the stone floor, her head flung back high in defiance, causing the small hood she wore to fall slightly back off her head.

'I'll take your word for it, Goodwife Giggs,' he muttered with a small smile, as he watched her disappear down the corridor.


	7. Chapter 7

(Thanks to Angel More and SSLE for your reviews. Hope everyone enjoys this chapter-Henry's back)

The 22nd August 1504 was nineteen years since King Henry VII won the throne of England. In celebration of the day, her husband had picked King Richard's crown off a thorn bush and place it on her beloved son's head, Lady Margaret Beaufort had organised a spectacular joust. All had to attend, whether they were a member of the Royal Family, courtier or mere servant- Europe needed to see that it was Tudors, not any other family, who God had chosen to rule England.

'Ow! Harry!' whispered Thomas, as Henry pressed his foot down hard on top of his. He looked over to Henry, who was sat next to him in the stand and saw he was smiling back innocently.

'Your friend is over there, Thomas,' nodded Henry, in the direction of the right side of the field. Thomas, glanced over to where a group of ladies from the Court had gathered to watch the various courtiers pretend to be knights. He was puzzled at first by Henry's words, until he saw Lord Dudley's daughter walk past, with Lucy following her, couching over, trying to sew a ribbon back on to Elizabeth Dudley's dress.

He watched her for a moment and could see the frustration on her face, as Elizabeth Dudley refused to stand still and let Lucy do her job. It had been over a week since they had argued in the corner of the garden and they had not spoken since. In the rare times, when their paths had crossed in the hallways of the Palace, Thomas had quickly turn and walked the other way. The problem was, that he still thought about her often, much to his annoyance.

'She's not happy with you, is she Thomas,' said Henry, rather loudly, causing both Cardinal Wolsey, who was seated beside Thomas and Catalina, who Henry had begged his grandmother to invite to today's celebration and to be allowed to sit with him, to take an interest in their conversation.

'Who is unhappy, Harry?,' asked Catalina, in her beautiful Spanish accent, putting a hand gently on Henry's shoulder, causing him to blush, 'not you I hope,'

'No,' whispered Henry, looking at his feet, 'but Thomas' friend. The pretty lady in the pink over there...but not as pretty as you, Catalina,'

Catalina look out into the crowd andsaw Lucy, who had finally got Elizabeth Dudley to stand still and was able to sew the ribbon back on to her dress. The Infanta, studied the seamstress very carefully, looking her up and down, and noticed that she kept briefly looking in their direction with a scowl before turning away. Catalina then look at Thomas, who seemed to be pretending that his gaze was not falling on the poor woman, then to the Cardinal; she never trust Wolsey, he was too much of a man, who was in need of control over everyone and everything, and the way he now watched with amusement annoyed her.

'I think you are right, Harry,' she said, quietly, 'she does not seem happy,'

'Perhaps,' voiced Wolsey, 'the reason for her annoyance is the group of people watching her trying to do her work,'

'No,' interrupted Henry with confidence, as he finally knew something before Wolsey did, 'she's upset because Thomas pulled away when they were kissing,'

Thomas gripped the side of his chair, as he heard Henry's words. So it had been Henry who had caused the rustling from the trees that afternoon. Out of the side of his sight, he could see a smug smile of Wolsey's face.

'Harry...'

'Except,' continued Henry, 'you wanted to kiss her and I wished you had, as you've been insufferable this last week! You have made me study for hours in that hot class room! You've made me read _Odyssey _so many times that I know every word, both in Greek and English, by heart and not once have you told me about Utopia!'

'Well, Harry, it seems I have actually manage to do my work correctly for one,' replied Thomas, with a nervous smile. He wasn't goingto deny that he had been had been stricter with Henry this week, as he found making him study hard had help to push other thoughts from his mind.

As he spoke, two knights went to joust again, taking Henry's attention away from him and Lucy. Thomas, who could not see the appeal of jousting, glanced over to where Lucy was now stood. Having finished her work, she was stood with a group of other servants in the corner to the field, talking with another woman, as one of the male servants, probably a cook, went and put an arm round her shoulders.

'You know, Thomas,' said Wolsey, in a low voice, 'jealousy is a perfectly normal emotion,'

'So I am aware,' replied Thomas, watching as Lucy elbowed this man in the stomach and the pushedhim away, before returning to chatting with the other woman, 'but I'm afraid, I do not suffer from it,'

The crowd applauded, as another knight won his spurs and another hit the dusty ground. Beside him, he heard Henry whisper to Catalina about how, when he's king, he will be the greatest knight in Christendom, causing Thomas to roll his eyes; why wouldn't Henry, be content to simply to be a King remembered for his mind and good works.

'She's a very beautiful woman,' continued Wolsey, nodding in the direction of Lucy, who was whispering something into her friends ear, 'I can certainly see the attraction,'

'There are some men, who see only what's on the surface,' replied Thomas, looking away from Lucy and straight at the Cardinal, 'that they do not think for a moment that what lies beneath is more important. True attraction lies from what the eye does not see, or so I've always believed,'

'I trust Thomas, you are speaking about the girl you are marrying and not the one, who your eyes off haven't stopped studying since you spotted her,' said Wolsey, bluntly, getting to his feet as he did so, 'your highest, the King requests our presence,'

As Wolsey and Henry, went to see the King, who despite today being the anniversary of his greatest triumph, still wore the same cold expression he always did. He still hadn't recovered from the loss of his Queen and their eldest child and found only comfort in ruling his country with an iron fist. Thomas watched Wolsey and Henry go, relieved that his remarks had meant that he was not asked to join them and he would be free of Henry's endless questions about Lucy-why couldn't he be that inquisitive during their lessons?

'I think you should talk to her,' came a distant sounding voice in Thomas' ear. He turned, not able to think, who the voice could belong to but then saw Catalina smiling back at him.

'Forgive me,' she said, in her dignified Spanish accent, 'I'm afraid I do not know the lady's name,'

Thomas hesitated. On previous occasions when he had meet with the Infanta, they had got on well due to them holding many of the same beliefs andThomas being great admirer of her mother, the pious and strong willed Isabella of Castile, but at that moment, Thomas felt uncomfortable in the presence of the young, former Princess of Wales.

'Lucy, your highest,' he replied, clearing his throat, 'her name is Lucy,'

'Lucy,' she repeated, slowly, 'she's hurt. I can see the way she's been glancing over here and I think, despite being one of God's most kindest men, that you are the reason for her unhappiness,'

Thomas felt uneasy, hearing her speak in such away. Not just because of the nature of her words, but because he knew that the Infanta was right. He was the reason for Lucy's unhappy mood when ever she looked over. Lucy had just been being kind andhe had spurned her, believingit was something dark... But then they had almost kissed?

'We had a misunderstanding,' replied Thomas, carefully as he thought through the events of a week ago. He liked being with Lucy. She was beautiful, it was a lie to deny that he did not think her attractive, but it was talking with her that he missed. He liked hearing her speak her mind and voicing her opinions against his. And unlike most, she listened to him, 'and it was my fault,'

'There are all different types of friendships,' smiled Catalina, watching as Lucy and her friend started to walk away from the crowd and back to the Palace, 'some are very difficult for others to understand but I think if both of you understand it, then that's all that matters,'

Was it wrong to be friends with Lucy? It was just that one moment and after Henry had distracted them, they had realised it was a mistaken-even if Thomas had gone about it the wrong way. God had tested the both of them and they had passed.

'If you'll excuse me, your highness,' said Thomas, getting to her feet, 'I just remembered that I have to speak with someone,'

'Of course,' nodded Catalina, happy, as she saw Thomas leave in the same direction as Lucy, that despite being ignored by the her former father-in-law, someone was willing to listen to her words.

* * *

'Lucy!'

Lucy, who was still in conversation with her friend, turned round with a smile, that dropped into a scowl the moment she saw Thomas. She had seen him sat with the Prince, Catalina and Wolsey, who made her skin crawl and had seen Thomas, as well as the rest of them, watching her every move and if it had notbeen for her friend, Joan, she likely would have snapped. She had made her laugh but the moment she saw Thomas and heard him speak her name, she snapped.

'What do you want?' she spat, her eyes staring at him hard, 'to give your friends something else to laugh at?'

The two of them stood there looking at each other, Thomas feelingextremely uneasy as Lucy glared back at him, her blue eyes filled with hatred. None of this was made any better by her friend, who looked at Thomas with utter contempt.

'Can we speak, Lucy?' he asked, quietly, his eyes trying not fall away from Lucy's, whose blue eyes suddenly seemed to soften,-but only slightly.

'She don't want to speak to you!' snapped the other woman, grabbing hold of Lucy's arm, 'come Lu,'

She pulled at her friend's arm, but Lucy didn't move. Despite her anger, she had missed Thomas. She missed his company, she missed having someone to speak with, who actually listened to her and respected her-that was the only reason she had kissed him on the cheek that day. Lucy did not want another union with a man, she enjoyed the freedom and respect she had as a widow and she would never dream of risk everything, for a few moments of passion. She was not like that. Thomas had hurt her-really hurt her and she wanted him to know.

'You go ahead Joan,' said Lucy, turning to look at her, 'I'll catch you up,'

'Lu!'

'Joan,' replied Lucy, her voice showing some of its sharp edge. Joan, glared once more at Thomas, before nodding to Lucy and leaving. Lucy, with hands on hips, looked Thomas up and down before speaking, 'well, what do you want, Mister More,'

Thomas flinched as he heard not only the prickly tone of her voice, but because she once again she was calling him by his title.

'It's Thomas,'

'No, it's Master More,' hissed Lucy, 'and I'm Goodwife Giggs, not Lucy! Cause using our names would mean that there was something, resembling a friendship between us and we can't have that, can we?'

'Lucy, please forgive,' said Thomas, taking hold of Lucy hand, 'I'm truly sorry. The fault is with me, not with you,'

'Too true,' snorted Lucy, though she did not pull away from him. Part of her wanted to be away from him as far as possible. He held her hand so lightly, she could easily have knocked him away- but that was the reason, she stayed. John, had always been rough with her, even when they were getting along, unlike Thomas, who despite the fact they had fallen out, still treated her in the same manor, he had always done, (except for that row)-gently and with respect, 'you're holding my hand, Thomas,'

Thomas looked down and saw that she was right, their hands were joined together. Inside, part of Thomas started to once again panic, but he still couldn't let go. He had missed Lucy. He had missed their talks, hearing Lucy laugh. He missed having someone, who understood him to listen to his ideas and who didn't just dismiss them. He simply missed her, surely that could not be wrong?

'I was unfair to you the other day,' he said, looking straight in Lucy eyes, 'I was wrong to have behave such away. You are no sin, Lucy, far from it in fact,'

'No, I am no sin,' replied Lucy, calmly, touching the cross of her son's rosary, that she still worn round her neck, as she spoke, 'any friend of mine would know how strong my faith holds with me. I'm no whore, I wouldn't just throw myself into a man's bed,'

Besides that first night by the fire in Lucy's house, when she had cried into his chest about the guilt she felt about the death of her poor young son, Thomas had not thought on Lucy being a woman of deep faith.

'Perhaps, if we were to be friends again...'

'We are friends, Thomas,' she sighed, shaking her head, 'it was you, who choose to think there was something sinister... Let's go for a walk,'

* * *

They walked around the outskirts of the field, away from the rest of the crowd, who were still watching the joust-but Lucy had a feeling Joan was keeping an eye on them from a distance. Neither said anything at first, just walked in silence, occasional looking at each other, smiling briefly, before once again looking away.

Lucy walked over to the pen, where the horses were being held and leaning over the fence, patted one on the nose, as they both heard a cheer come from the direction of the joust.

'I didn't think you'd be here today,' said Lucy, glancing over in the direction of the cheers, 'I thought you wouldn't be taken in by all this nonsense,'

'Harry asked me,' replied Thomas, leaning on the fence next to her, 'I've never seen the appeal of pretending to play at war...but then, I've never seen the appeal of war,'

'It's just an excuse not to talk and try and work things out,' sighed Lucy, 'poverty is not the only reason men become soldiers,'

'Your husband was a soldier, was he not?'

'Yes,' laughed Lucy, throwing her head back, 'though I don't think all the talking in the world could have saved me and him. If he hadn't had left to become a mercenary, I think I would have, '

Thomas, as he heard her laugh and saw her blue eyes sparkling, realised he felt no guilt about them being alone together. They were friends and that was all.

'Well I never had the pleasure of meeting your husband,' smiled Thomas, 'but I'm glad that you decided not to die on a foreign field,'

'No, I'm too much of a fighter for that,' said Lucy, raising an eyebrow, 'though simply ignoring the problem is another excuse not to talk...are you going to deny that you've been ignoring me,'

'I'm not going to deny, what is true,' remarked Thomas, 'but would you have spoken to me, if I'd come to see you?'

'I would have cracked the cooking pot over your head,'

'You could have come to see me,'

'If I did know where you lived,' smiled Lucy, resting her head on Thomas shoulder, 'would your father have let me cross your doorstep,'

They to look at each other, their eyes meeting andwere locking briefly, before they once again looked away. Though unlike the previous times, they didn't pull away from each other, with neither panicking but Lucy still felt the need to reassure him.

'Thomas, I'm not sinful,' continued Lucy, looking up at the blue sky, before returning to look at Thomas, 'do you know the Church of St Mary the Virgin in Putney? Can you meet me there tomorrow at noon?'

* * *

Henry and Wolsey retook their seats beside Catalina, after having spoken with the King, who despite the solemn look on his face, had only wanted to greet his son and speak with him about his studies.

'His majesty is very proud of you, Henry,' said Wolsey, sitting down next to him, 'he's impressed with how far you've come in your education,'

'Yet,' complained Henry, sitting down with a thud beside Catalina, 'he still will not let my joust!...Catalina, where is Thomas?'

Catalina smiled and nodded in the direction of the of the field just behind the tents. Henry winced, as he looked over to where Catalina had pointed and smiled as he saw his friend talking with the pretty lady in pink-maybe Thomas would make their lessons more fun this week?

'Christ, Thomas,' muttered Wolsey to himself, as he watched Thomas and Lucy part, both with smiles on their faces, 'why can you be like other men. Romp with her in the hayloft. Get her out of your system, then forget about her,'

* * *

'Don't fall for him,' whispered Joan, as Lucy rejoined her in the Palace kitchens and helped herself to some bread, 'it can only lead to trouble,'

'It's a good thing I'm not then, isn't it,' replied Lucy, cutting through the tough bread, 'so there won't be any trouble,'

Joan look at her friend, as she put the bread away and went searching for some jam. Lucy had been unbearable to be around this week, snapping at the tiniest little things but now, she seemed to be calmer and her eyes seemed to have regained their usual shine.

'Is that why you and him both can't look each other in the eyes without smiling,' answered Joan, cynically, as Lucy spreading some strawberry jam on her slice of bread, 'do you think his family will let him marry and have babies by the likes of you. It will end in tears, Lu, with your heart broken and me having to pick up the pieces!'

'Well,' smiled Lucy, chewing on her bread and jam, 'it will make a change from me having to pick up the pieces of your broken heart,'


	8. Chapter 8

(Thanks for all the lovely reviews. I hope everyone enjoys this chapter)

Thomas slowly open the creaky door toThames side church and peered into the brightly lit chapel. He kneeled in the aisle and cross himself, saying a prayer to God as he did so. After he said the words 'amen,' Thomas got to his feet and looked up to see Lucy kneeling at the altar, before a beautiful statue of the Virgin. She had her veiled head bent deep in prayer before the mother of Christ, whose arms were opened to her daughter as if offering her comfort as Lucy asked the Queen of Heaven for guidance.

Sitting down on one of the old wooden pews, Thomas listened as he heard Lucy's words become louder and felt his heart almost skip a beat, as he noticed the amount of passion with which she spoke:

_Salve, Regina, Mater misericordiae, _

_vita, dulcedo, et spes nostra, salve. _

_ad te clamamus _

_exsules filii Evae, _

_ad te suspiramus, gementes et flentes _

_in hac lacrimarum valle. _

_Eia, ergo, advocata nostra, illos tuos _

_misericordes oculos ad nos converte; _

_et Jesum, benedictum fructum ventris tui, _

_nobis post hoc exsilium ostende. _

_O clemens, O pia, O dulcis Virgo Maria. _

After a few moments, she crossed herself and kissed the rosary she held in her hand, before getting to her feet. Instead of turning around to see Thomas, her eyes remain on the Virgin, dressed in her pale blue gown with a crown of gold.

'When I was little,' she said, her back still to Thomas, 'I wanted to be just like her. She was so beautiful and strong,'

Slowly, Thomas got to his feet and joined her at the foot of the statue. As he stood next to Lucy, he saw for the first time that her eyes were wet with tears.

'Lucy...' he started, trying to clear his voice to speak, but having heard the passion with which Lucy spoke, he found himself left almost speechless.

'My mother died giving birth to my stillborn brother when I was two,' continued Lucy, staring up at the Virgin, 'it almost killed my father. He is a good man and father, but never got over her death. He could never bring himself to remarry. I had no mother. My aunt use to look in on us from time to time but she had own family and enough problems with her husband, to be with me constantly. So I turned to the Blessed Mother. Every day, from the age of four, I use to walk down to this church and talk to her. I use to tell her all I'd done in the day. I use to bring my cross stitch to show her. I told her my fears about marrying John. I would tell all my the problems with John. My joy at Georgie's birth and my pain at his death-she looks after him for me now...I still come here once a week to speak to her. I told her my hurt over what happened between us in the garden,'

Lucy leant forward and kissed the feet of the Queen of Heaven, before turning and looking at Thomas for the first time today. Through her veil, Thomas could see that despite the tears, she had a smile on her face.

'She is all our mothers, I know but to me, I feel her especially close,' Lucy said, taking hold of Thomas hand and leading him back to a pew, 'but I know I will never be her. I am flesh and blood, like she, but I've done wrong in my life and I've made mistakes and I will carry on making them. I'm not perfect, no matter how much I try to be,'

'Lucy,' replied Thomas, with a smile, 'why didn't you tell me earlier,'

'I thought,' sighed Lucy, looking down at her feet and crossing herself, 'I thought you would laugh at me,'

'Laugh? Why would I laugh?'

He watch as Lucy turned and stared at the stained glass window depicting the Annunciation. He would never laugh at her for her devotion to her faith; it was a dedication that would put most men, (even Cardinal Wolsey, thought Thomas with a small laugh), to shame. Few people would be weep or speak so movingly about the Virgin and her son, and anyone who did so could never be wrong or warrant mockery.

'Because you're so clever,' she replied, glancing back over to him, 'and it seems so...so silly,'

'How can devotion to faith ever be silly,' said Thomas, seriously, holding her head even tighter, 'it is the thing which holds all men together and if we lose that, then we risk bringing mankind into disorder and sin,'

'I cannot imagine a world without the Church,' Lucy, said, as she touched the cross on Georgie's rosary, which she still wore round her neck, 'Thomas why didn't you become a monk?'

Thomas look at her with surprise, trying to recall when he had actual mentioned that part of his life to her.

'Hasn't the Cardinal ever told you, that those below stairs no more than those above,' she laughed, resting her head on his shoulder.

'Apparently not,' said Thomas, quietly, 'my father wanted me to become a member of Parliament,'

'And you didn't?'

'Honour thy father and thy mother,' replied Thomas, with conviction as he repeated the Commandment, 'so that your days may be long in the land that the Lord your God is giving you,'

'But Thomas what did you want?'

'To be honest, I wish I could have had the strength to retired from the world,' said Thomas, carefully, 'but, as you pointed out, I have flaws like other men and I do not think I could ever have been worthy of such a calling,'

'I think you would have been. Your more worthy than Cardinal Wolsey,' mumbled Lucy, bitterly remembering her dislike of the man, who watched everyone and everything, though she decided against telling Thomas about Wolsey's words of warning, 'come, I want to visit Georgie's grave,'

* * *

Thomas stood by her side, as Lucy knelt by her poor son's grave and kissed the cross that made up his grave stone. They were both sinful in that they were products of Adam and Eve and they need to prove themselves to Heaven, but between them, nothing could ever be sinful. They both longed for Heaven and never would do anything to put their immortal souls in jeopardy. Lucy was no sin nor was she sinful, he had realised that yesterday, but now after what he had witnessed and the words he had heard from her mouth, nothing in their friendship could ever be wrong.

* * *

'Harry?'

'Yes, Thomas,' smiled Henry, staring up at his tutor, as they walked in the garden, 'and yes I was listening,'

'So,' replied Thomas, 'what was I just saying about...'

'You were saying,' interrupted Henry, cheekily, 'unlimited power has a tendency to weaken good minds, and even in the case of very gifted men,'

'Very good, Harry,' said Thomas, slightly stunned that Henry had actually been listening to his words, 'and why is that?'

'Because, someone who only knows true power is capable of pride, which leads them to abuse their power, like my great-uncle the hunchback...I do not know why you are telling me all this, Thomas. I would never abuse my power, you have taught me too well,'

'So,' smiled Thomas, happy that he was wrong-Henry had been listening, 'you would never make me give up my head, in return for you be given a castle in France?'

'Of course not!' roared Henry with laughter, 'Cardinal Wolsey's maybe, but not you, Thomas. Never you,'

'I'm glad to hear it, Harry. Now, humans are, by nature...'

Thomas continued, as Henry rolled his eyes. It was almost a week since the joust and Henry noticed that while Thomas was no longer troubled, he had not stopped working him hard at his studies. Henry, despite his complaints, did actually enjoy his lessons with Thomas, but his attentions were easily distracted and after having been the good student for a good part of the week, he was now bored. His grandmother had said, that if Thomas agreed, he could finish his lessons early and go riding but Henry knew that once Thomas started talking about a subject that interested him, it was hard to get him to stop.

But as Henry noticed a thread pulling lose on his doublet, his mind started to form a plan. As Thomas continued to speak, Henry pulled on the thread some more, making the hem of his sleeve come undone.

'Sorry, Thomas,' said Henry, turning on his heels and starting to run towards the castle, 'I will be back in a moment, I promise,'

* * *

Henry burst into the sewing room, causing all the women to jump up from their work and fall into a curtsey.

'Your highest,' gasped Mistress Martin, catching her breath, 'to what do we owe...'

'I need to borrow one of your seamstress,' said Henry, spying Lucy, dressed in pale green, curtseying in the corner of the room. As all eyes were on the floor, Henry took a red ribbon that was lying on one of the tables, before going over to Lucy and grabbing her wrist, 'this one will do,'

* * *

'Harry!' cried Thomas in shock, as Henry returned with a flustered Lucy in tow, 'Lucy?'

'Thomas?' replied a stunned Lucy, who looked around the garden confused.

'What are you doing here?' he asked, as Henry pushed Lucy towards him, 'Harry what are you plotting?'

'A little experiment,' smiled Henry, with his hands behind his back, hiding the ribbon, 'oh do not mind me, you two just talk,'

Thomas view Henry with suspicion, before turning to look at Lucy, who looked equally puzzled by what Henry meant by 'a little experiment'.

'Thomas,' whispered Lucy, out of the side of her mouth, 'what is going on?'

'I'm not sure,' replied Thomas, slowly, 'though I think it's best we play along,'

'I...I..I,' said Lucy, unsure about what to say in front of the Prince, 'I enjoyed our walk last night,'

'So did I,' smiled Thomas, ' though I do not think you friend approved of me,'

'Oh, don't mind Joan,' laughed Lucy, remembering the dirty look Joan had thrown Thomas yesterday evening when he had called round the house, 'she just doesn't like anyone taking my attention away from her and petty dramas,'

Joan had been staying with Lucy, after her landlord's wife had thrown her out, thinking that Joan and her husband were becoming a little too close-though Joan protested her innocence. Every night that week, Lucy had had to listen to Joan call this woman every name under the sun, so it was a relief to see Thomas on her doorstep, rescuing her from another evening of Joan wailing insults.

'I was...'started Thomas, but then he noticed that Henry was running away from them, 'Harry!'

Thomas went to move and give chase after his charge but as he took a step forward, both him and Lucy tumbled to the hard grown with a thud.

'What the devil?' cried Lucy, as she tried to sit up, while Thomas tried to get to his feet, but both found that their movements were interlocked and neither could move without dragging the other. Together they looked down at their feet and found that Henry had tied Lucy's right ankle to Thomas' left.

* * *

'The Duke of Buckingham is my most important client,' replied John More, staring hard at Wolsey, who was sat opposite him, 'do not think you can turn me easily against him,'

'I have no intention of turning you against your client, Sir John,' answered Wolsey, turning his attention to some documents on his desk, 'just that you should remind him that he is not and never will be King, unless you want another spell in the Tower,'

'I must remember to thank Thomas for that one,' thought John More, still not entirely sure why Thomas had felt the need to defy the King over the matter of taxation. Why could he not just vote with the rest of them and given the King his money? And what did it really achieve, other than getting him sent to the Tower and fined? John More had never mentioned the matter with Thomas and it remained an unspoken subject between the two, though he knew his son, despite his worries for his father, still stood by the stand he had taken.

John More got to his feet and went over to the window, having heard his eldest son's laugh from the Palace gardens. He had heard Thomas laugh on many occasions-their house could be quite a merry place at times but today, there was something different in his tone. And the voice, who he was laughing along with, was not the voice of the Prince but of a woman. Peering out of the window, John More saw Thomas and a woman dressed in a plain pale green dress, laugh as they tried to untangle themselves from each other. Watching closely, he could clearly see there was an uneasiness between them, in the way they could not quite look each other in the eyes but he could clearly see there was something between Thomas and this woman, that was missing between him and Jane.

'Who is she?' asked John More, his eyes narrowing on the pretty woman, who Thomas was helping to her feet.

'Who?' replied Wolsey, pretending he had not been closely watching the scene and still had all his attention still on his paper work. God was smiling on him-everything was going better than expected. His plan had been to warn John More that his son should be careful with the friendships but now he could see the problem with his own eyes.

'The woman who my son has an arm round!'

Causally, Wolsey got up from his desk and joined him by the window, suppressing the smile that was trying to appear on his lips.

'She, I believe, is Goodwife Lucy Giggs,' he replied, sounding disinterested, 'she's works in the Palace as a seamstress. A woman of no importance,'

'Goodwife! She's married?'

'Widowed but as I said, she's a woman of no importance,'

'She must have been young?'

'Lost her husband at eighteen. She's twenty-three now, I believe...that would make her only a few years younger than your son...but she's only a seamstress. A woman of no importance,'

Wolsey stepped back and watched the lines on John More's face deepen. Lucy Giggs was of great importance, if she was going to get in the way of the family (and Wolsey's advancement). Jane's father maybe a good friend of Thomas' but both John More and Wolsey knew that he'd be less likely to allow the marriage to go ahead, if he knew Thomas' mind was or rumoured to be on, other 'things'.

'I just remembered ,' said John More gruffly, heading towards the door, 'I have someone else in the Palace whom I have some important business with. If you'll excuse me, Wolsey,'

'Of course,' smiled Wolsey, as the door to his office slammed shut, 'of course,'

* * *

'You won't tell him off, will you?' said Lucy, adjusting her hood, as she did not wanting any awkward looks from Mistress Martin when she returned to work, 'he probably didn't mean any harm,'

'Of course not,' smiled Thomas, 'I could not bring myself to, even if I wanted too,'

'Is my hood of straight?,' asked Lucy, still playing with the strife white fabric, 'I don't want Mistress Martin thinking I'm returning from a tumble in the hay,'

'There,' replied Thomas, placing a hand on the side of the headdress and pulling gently at it, so that it was now level on both sides, 'she would not be far from the truth. You did go for a tumble,'

'Yes, but not the sort of tumble she'd be picturing. The sort of tumble that could get me dismissed and you in deep trouble'

They both laughed and for a brief moment met each other's eyes, before quickly breaking away.

'I should be getting back,' smiled Lucy, looking at the ground, then quickly kissed Thomas on the cheek, before disappearing behind one of the Palace's side door. Thomas paused, putting a hand to the spot on his face, where Lucy had just kissed and smiled-he did not know why he had ever been worried, nothing between them could ever be wrong or sinful.

Thomas then left to try and find Henry, unaware that his father had witnessed the whole scene.


	9. Chapter 9

(Thanks for the great reviews. Afraid there's not much Thomas and Lucy in this chapter-will make up for it in the next one :) Hope everyone likes this chapter)

'You see our problem?' remarked Wolsey, not looking up from his work as John More stormed back into his office, 'pretty little thing, isn't she?'

'I'm sure she is, what all women are,' said John More, bluntly, 'trouble!'

'I do not think your son see's it that way. Thomas seems very taken with her. I'm sure she'll make a welcome addition around your dinner table this Christmastide,'

'She will not be the one, who sits at my son's side this December,' snapped back John More, sitting down opposite Wolsey, a man who was very much built in the same model as he, 'Thomas will do what he's told!'

'Well, then,' said Wolsey, looking up from his papers, meeting John More's gaze as he put his hands together as if in prayer, 'I think it's time you reminded Thomas of where his loyalties lie,'

There was silence between the two men, those lives had been driven by one thing-ambition. Neither of their fathers had been men of great social standing, but they had given them the grounding that was need to succeed. However, those who have risen above the standing of their birth also know that success does not just depend on them, but also on the actions of others.

'I'm sure if he sees his angelic fiancée , against that common little madam,' voiced John More, certain that Lucy was no better than the women who worked the streets in Southwark, 'Thomas will soon forget her. Jane will be visiting tomorrow,'

'Do you know there's a market in Putney every Saturday?' smiled Wolsey, 'and Goodwife Giggs always visits the market on the way to see relations. I think Jane would very much like to see the market as well,'

* * *

'So Jane,' smiled Elizabeth, as she lead her future sister-in-law around the packed market, 'what do you think of London?'

'It...it...it's very crowded,' stuttered Jane, holding even tighter on to Elizabeth's arm, 'I did not think I would ever see this many people,'

'You will get use to it,' said Elizabeth, trying to hide her discomfort as she felt Jane's nails dig into her arm, 'won't she, Thomas?'

Thomas, who was walking a few paces in front of Jane and Elizabeth, his head bent deep in thought, turned to look at his sister and future bride, who blushed every Thomas looked her way.

'Sorry,'

'I was just saying to Jane, that she's soon get use to living in London,'

'Of course you will,' replied Thomas, trying to sound certain but failing, as he saw Elizabeth roll her eyes. No matter how much he told himself, that it was his duty to marry Jane, he was still having to suppress the thought that he did not want her to be his wife. He was also feeling slightly uneasy about the fact, his father had suggested they cross the Thames for a walk, but Thomas never questioned his father and in away it made sense, as they were meant to showing Jane London.

'Elizabeth,' called their father, who was walking out in front of them with their step-mother, 'come and take your old father's arm. Let Thomas have some time with Jane,'

After having to prise herself from Jane, Elizabeth went to join her father and step-mother, leaving Thomas alone with Jane. As a woman, carrying a chicken knocked into Jane, she let out a cry and grab hold Thomas' arm.

'We do not have to live in London,' said Thomas, kindly, after they had walked on a few minutes in silence, 'we could live in the country, if you prefer,'

'If...if...if you would prefer it,' replied Jane, timidly, 'my mother says I must do whatever you command me to do,'

Thomas, knew more than most the importance's of always doing what you were instructed to do by your parent, but at that moment he found himself wanting to tell her to argue with him, to debate with him, not simply agree with everything he said.

'Jane,' said Thomas, carefully, not wanting to upset her, 'I would like you to have an opinion. After all, it will be your home too?'

'I have whatever opinion you want me to have,' smiled Jane, nervously hoping Thomas would like her answer, but he seemed to be staring out in the crowd, ignoring her comment.

'Jane,' called Elizabeth, brightly, standing by one of the stalls with her father, ' come and have a look at these interesting flowers. You can tell father, Thomas, mother and I all about them,'

Jane felt the smile come back to her lips as she made her way over to Elizabeth. She liked Elizabeth, as she was the only one in the family who she felt at ease with and soon she was telling her eagerly about the flowers lying on the stall, unaware that Thomas was not at her side-as he had just spotted someone he knew in the crowd.

* * *

'It hurts, don't it?' hissed Joan, as she glanced over to where Thomas was stood with Jane and his family, 'it's never nice, the mistress seeing her lover with his future wife,'

'I don't know what you're talking about,' replied Lucy, pretending to study the different cloths, lying on the table, 'there is no mistress and no lover,'

'No, but you want there to be,' said Joan, rather loudly as she grabbed hold of Lucy's arm, 'I see the way you look at each other and saw how red your cheeks were yesterday, when you came back from being with him, '

'Nothing happened,' snapped Lucy, knocking away Joan's arm but as she did so, her eye's looked through the mass of people and found Thomas, who despite his best efforts, found his eyes were drawn to Lucy, 'we are friends and nothing more,'

'Really,' laughed Joan, 'so you're telling me, that once he is married, his wife and family will let you two be friends? Cause I know exactly what they'll be thinking the two of you are doing and it doesn't involve much talking,'

Lucy sighed in frustration, realising that her friend was never going to believe her, but she also realised too, that Joan had a point-what would happened once Thomas was married? He would not be able to simply to come and spend most evenings with her-no wife in their right mind would let their husband spend his evenings alone with another woman, even if it was completely innocent. Leaving Joan, Lucy walked on a little way by herself, not really paying much attention to the people around her, as she was too deep in thought. It shouldn't bother her seeing Jane but for some reason it did and she felt her stomach turn itself into knots, making her feel sick.

'Lucy!' she heard a voice say, at the same time she felt someone gently take hold of her arm. Slightly startled, she turned round and saw Thomas stood beside her.

'Hello,' she smiled, trying to hide her uneasiness as she saw Joan watching the two of them closely, 'I didn't see you there,'

'I think you did,' replied Thomas, returning her smile, 'I hope you did not get in trouble with Mistress Martin yesterday,'

'No,' laughed Lucy, 'she just put my flustered look down to me wanting to get back to my work as quickly as possible...your fiancée seems nice,'

'Jane,' said Thomas, after a pause, 'yes she is,'

'And is she nice enough to let us still be friends once you two are married?' Lucy asked. She had not meant to utter those words, only think them but she needed to know soon, before it was too late, 'or will she just think, on the times your visiting, you are actually visiting my bed,'

Thomas looked at Lucy, who gone from smiling to seeming strangely sad. What differences did him being married make to them? It was innocent-though he did admit that he preferred Lucy's company to Jane's-but it was still innocent all the same. Both he and Lucy understood that, as did God.

'If we understand what truly passes between us,' said Thomas, remembering Catalina's words, 'then surely that's all that matters,'

'If only the world was as perfect as you wish it to be, Thomas,' answered Lucy, a smile returning to her lips, as she briefly took hold of Thomas' hand, squeezing it quickly before letting it go, as she felt Joan tug on her arm, 'I need to go, we're meeting father and my aunt for lunch. I'll see you late... maybe,'

They parted company, with a lingering look that they both tried to ignore, Lucy disappeared into the crowd and Thomas returned to his family, who were still stood by the flower stall. Jane, for the first time, looked happy as she told Elizabeth about the different flowers laid out before them. Thomas thought on Lucy's words as Jane spoke. He would see her tonight, he could see no reason why not. He would go mad, if he could no longer speak with her, the same as his father was now going mad, at having witnessed the two of them together.

* * *

'It did not work then?' asked Wolsey, signing the bottom of a letter, as John More appeared scowling, in his office at first thing Monday morning.

'No,' he replied coldly, sitting down, 'he spoke to Jane but...

'But his eyes would not leave the little seamstress,' finished Wolsey, handing the letter to a waiting page, 'so we still have a problem,'

Wolsey was clever and once Henry was King, he would be the second most powerful man in the kingdom- only for this to happen, he need Thomas to remain at Henry's side. But Thomas had already crossed the King once and Wolsey knew Henry VII was only looking for the slightest reason to get Thomas out of the way for good-and tutors to the Princes of Wales do not marry common wenches or they do, but the doors to Court are then closed to them forever.

'Do you think she's after money?' voiced John More, who after his experiences with his second wife, had a very little opinion of women, 'she surely does not earn enough to keep a house all by herself,'

'Well,' replied Wolsey, calling the page with the letter back, 'shall we find out?'

* * *

'You are closer to Goodwife Giggs, are you not, Joan,' asked Wolsey, staring hard at the dark hair girl, who glared back at him with her coal back eyes.

'Yes, your Eminence,' said Joan, with a nod of the head. She knew exactly why she was here and despite her sharing their belief that Lucy and Thomas should be separated, she was not about to let anyone destroy her best friend, 'since we were sixteen. She's like my sister,'

'Touching,' replied Wolsey, with a smile, 'now being so close, she must tell you everything,'

Joan looked at both men and shuffled uncomfortable in the chair. She knew that one wrong word could cost her, her job but she also knew, that these men could use her words to hurt her dear friend.

'I know why I'm here, your Excellency,' she said, slowly, wanting to make sure her words were the right ones, 'but I won't let you hurt Lu...Goodwife Giggs. She's the kindest person you could ever meet,'

'I'm sure she is and I give you my word, as a man of God that neither of us wish her any harm,' answered Wolsey, getting up from his seat and going to stand by Joan, 'we just wish to know the exact nature of her relationship with Master More,'

'Their friends,' shrugged Joan, repeating the words Lucy had told her many times, 'nothing more, nothing less,'

'And what does she get out of?,' said John More, in the voice that he used when he was trying a case before the courts, staring hard at the young woman, 'I cannot imagine her and my son having much in common,'

'She's not after your money, if that's what your thinking!' snapped back Joan, forgetting herself briefly as she defended her best friend, 'sorry sir...look, Lu...Goodwife Giggs is always thinking and day dreaming-probably too much for anyone's liking-but she feels no one listens to her...from what she tells me and she never lies to me, is that they talk and listen to each other,'

John More listened and nodded his head along with Joan's words. It could make sense-Thomas was always daydreaming and trying to get others to listen to his thoughts. With Erasmus no longer in London, it was possible that he was searching for another to shares his thoughts with. But then again, John More had seen the look that had passed between his son and Lucy with his own eyes and there was more to it than friendship.

'And your friend's reputation?' he continued with his questioning, 'does she have many friends of the opposite gender?'

'What! Lucy,' laughed Joan. It was laughable to try and paint Lucy as a whore-she was the most sensible of all the girls in the Palace-even those above stairs. Joan was often jealous of Lucy because of her English rose looks and the attention she would get but Lucy always told her would-be seducers where to go, 'she'd rival the Virgin herself...sorry, your Eminence,'

'You are forgiven,'

'It's just Lu is not like that. If you must know, the only man she's ever had is her husband and I don't think she really liked it. She told me, she use to feel so sick after he had taken her,'

'It was not a happy marriage then?'

'He use to knock her around, something rotten,' said Joan, believing that telling them all this, would make them feel sorry for her friend and leave them alone, 'though Lucy would always try and fight back,'

Wolsey nodded his head and John More looked on, not sure how to take this woman words.

'You may go,' replied Wolsey, dismissing in her with a wave of his hand, as he returned to her seat. Joan got to her feet, feeling unsure about her dismissal and just stood on the spot, looking from one man to another, 'do not worry Joan, you and Goodwife Giggs positions are safe for now, but I suggest that you do not tell anyone, even your close friend, about our little chat,'

* * *

'Do you believe her?' asked John More, after Joan had gone, 'that they have not gone to bed?'

'If you have to asked me that, then you do not know your own son,' replied Wolsey, sitting back in his chair, putting his hands together, 'besides, you only have to look at them to see. No couple, who suffer the uneasiness they have between them, could have possible consummated their relationship...shame,'

'Shame?'

'Shame, because the longer they wait, the more prone they will be to develop feelings that will make it hard for them to be separated,' said Wolsey, his mind working, 'whereas if they simply went to bed and released what they need to release, once the lust was gone, they would very quickly realise their feelings are those of just wanting and will go their separate ways...but those who wait...You raised your son too well, John, if only he was a man to break promises...How keen is the Colt family for the marriage to go ahead?'

'Very,' replied John More, eyeing Wolsey with suspicion.

'How would they feel about delaying the marriage for a little while?' asked Wolsey, raising an eyebrow.


	10. Chapter 10

(Thanks to SSLE and Vain x Life Poetess for your reviews. Have made More's older sister Johanna, the youngest of the More siblings. Hope everyone enjoys this chapter. Have an idea about where this story is going but if anyone has any suggestions, please let me know :))

'He called it off,' said Lucy, taking a sip of her ale, 'just like that. Did he give you a reason?'

'It was clear,' answered Thomas, repeating the words his father had spoken to him yesterday evening, 'that there was an uneasiness between Jane and I, which would make it impossible for a marriage between us to be successful,'

Across the corner table in the small tavern in Eltham, Lucy studied Thomas face, as she thought on what he had just told her. She couldn't explain why she felt her heart leap, as she heard him say that his father had called off his engagement, but Lucy at the same time, felt something didn't seem right. When she had see Thomas with Jane and his family in Putney on Saturday, she could see his father was very much wanting Jane as a daughter-in-law, so why only a few days later, had he call it off?

'And what do you think?'

'My mother, my step-mother,' said Thomas, admitting for the first time, the difficult relationship he and his siblings had with their step-mother, 'is not the easiest woman to live with. My father maybe does not want me to repeat the same mistake. Not that Jane is anything like my step-mother,'

'No,' smiled Lucy, raising an eyebrow, 'I can imagine, though I reckon give me a chance, I could eat your step-mother for breakfast,'

'I'm sure you could,' laughed Thomas, the thought of Lucy and his step-mother meeting was very amusing-he could guest what his step-mother would say the moment she laid eyes on Lucy, ' and I'm sure father would take your side,'

'We could tell her tell her that I'm carrying your child,'

'Lucy,' said Thomas, trying to sound disapproving as he tried to stop laughter escaping from his mouth-he could hear his step-mother's screams already, 'and what if your father hears of our little joke,'

'Then you can be England's version, Abelard'

'How do you know Abelard and Heloise?' replied Thomas, more shocked that Lucy knew of the French Abbess and her tutor/lover, than the thought of suffering the same fate as Abelard at the hands of Lucy's father.

'I'm not as stupid as I look, Thomas,'

'I never said...'

'It was innocently unspoken,' grinned Lucy, 'I have ears. I listen to what others say around me. Ladies of court seem to think that seamstress don't have ears. Though in my mind its seems extremely sinful, to be thinking about that sort of thing, whilst your meant to be praying to God,'

Thomas went to replybut before he could, he was interrupted by sound of laughter coming from outside the tavern. Lucy rolled her eyes as a group of men from the Palace kitchens came into the quiet tavern, disturbing the peacefulness of the place. Looking at them, over his shoulder, Thomas recognised one of the men as being the man, he had seen try to put his arm round Lucy at the joust.

'I think it's time we were heading back,' said Lucy, getting to her feet, as Thomas did the same. She took hold of Thomas' hand, as the two of them made to leave, having to pass the group of men as they did so.

'Looking for a bit of rough, are we, Mister More,' called the man Lucy had snubbed at the joust, while the other men sniggered with laughter.

'Pardon,' replied Thomas softly.

'Be quiet, William,' snapped Lucy, clicking her fingers at the man, before turning back to look at Thomas, 'come, he's not worth it. He's just jealous that he can't count pass three,'

'Don't let Lucy fool you, Master More,' leered William, 'she may act all prime but her mouth's rotten. She's just a common little fishwife, in a nice dress!'

'And there was me, thinking Lucy was a widow,' replied Thomas with a smile, as Lucy tightened her grip on his hand, 'and judging by your breath, it's you who has the rotten mouth,'

* * *

'I thought he was going to hit you,' laughed Lucy, kicking up some fallen autumn leaves as she and Thomas walked along the country path back to Palace.

'No,' replied Thomas, 'he had the look of someone capable of issuing threats but lacks any conviction to carry them out,'

'I hate him,' sighed Lucy, 'Joan thinks he's wonderful...She thinks I should give him a chance,'

'I hope you do not. You are far to clever too for him,'

'Do you really think I'm clever?' smiled Lucy, 'or is it just away to keep me around,'

They stopped on small, well walked, path and Lucy pulled her shawl further around her as she started to feel a chill in the air.

'What do you think of when you see the world around you?'

'I think,' answered Lucy, 'I think...you'll laugh, if I tell you what I think,'

'I swear to you that I will not,'

'All sorts of things,' shrugged Lucy, sitting down on a fallen tree, 'I sometimes think that if I had been born a lady, I wouldn't have had to sew my fingers to the bone, every day since I was thirteen. I wouldn't have had to worry about money. I wouldn't have had to take my son to work with me, and then he wouldn't have run ahead that day and gone under...but what's the use of thinking like that. Can't change past,'

With the back of her sleeve, Lucy wiped away a tear that had appeared in her sparkling eyes, as she thought about her son. Thomas sat down next to her, jumping slightly as Lucy rested her head on his shoulder.

'You are right,' he said, putting an arm carefully around her waist, 'but I do think that you can alter your future,'

'Someone once told Joan that our fates are written in the stars,' Lucy smiled, 'they said, it was written in them that she's be married and a mother of four boys by the times she's twenty-one...she's twenty-three now,'

They both laughed. As close as Lucy and Joan were, they would both drive each other mad sometimes. Joan was always getting her heartbroken by some cruel, usually married man and would then cry on Lucy shoulder until the next one came along, promising her marriage, while Joan could not understand why Lucy would refuse to let herself have some fun with her friend in the taverns of London.

'There are some men of great learning,' said Thomas, looking up at the sky briefly, 'who believe that God has placed the stars in the sky above us, to show us our fates...but I think, God gives us the ability to change our future,'

'Like listening to our heads and our hearts?' asked Lucy, turning to look at him and realising of the first time, how much she liked his greyish blue eyes.

'Or faith and conscious,' replied Thomas, holding her waist slightly tighter, 'God gives us the ability to determine our future. Once Harry is King, he will use his faith and conscious to put right the wrongs of the past and give England a better future,'

'So,' smiled Lucy,' so if I should happen to push you off this log. It was not because God had written it in the stars,'

'Yes,' replied Thomas, returning her smile, 'as my conscious tells me that if I do fall off this log, fate can decide whether you join me or not,'

Lucy leaned forward and gently pushed him on the shoulder, but as she went to move away, Thomas caught hold of her hand. Lucy laughed as she tried to push him again, but Thomas still did not fall.

It was third time lucky, as Lucy, using all her strength managed to fulfil the fate her heart had decided upon and knocked Thomas off the log-only for her to fall after him. They both fell on the autumn grass laughing and they continued to laugh as they got back to their feet, but as Thomas helped Lucy up, their laughter stopped as their eyes locked. Hesitantly at first, as Lucy remembered the last time when they had almost let themselves kiss, she put her arms around Thomas' neck but as she pushed herself forward, she felt Thomas' hands on her hips.

They both leaned in at the same angle as they went to kiss, causing their heads to bang together. Lucy giggled, as they both moved their heads in the opposite direction, only for it to happen again. Finally, with nervous smiles, their lips managed to meet and kiss gently, their mouths only slightly opened as they did so.

'You didn't pull away from me this time, Thomas,' smiled Lucy, crossing her fingers and hoping Thomas wasn't going to once again panic.

'No,' answered Thomas, placing a hand on the side of Lucy's face and looking into her eyes, 'no, I did not,'

At that moment, the words of St Augustine could not have been further from Thomas' mind. There was nothing sinful between him and Lucy, not even that kiss. The sin of being unfaithful to Jane was also gone. His father himself had told him, he wanted him to be happy and Lucy made him happy.

They leaned forward and kissed again, this time though, they both managed to open their mouths a little more.

* * *

'Thomas,' said his younger brother, John, as he came into the room, 'can I ask you a question?'

'Of course,' replied Thomas, who was sat at the table, not looking up from Erasmus' letter, which he had been reading since dinner.

'Has the Prince started wearing lavender?' asked John, with a smile as he sat down next to his brother, 'because your clothes reek of it,'

Thomas looked up from the letter briefly, before returning to its words, trying not to look uncomfortable with his brother's question. He thought about Lucy then, wondering if her evening with Joan and her father was as awkward as this. But then again, he thought, was there really any need to feel uncomfortable, as nothing in the kisses he and Lucy had shared, had felt wrong-in fact it felt nothing but right.

'Who is she, Thomas?' giggled his sister, Johanna, who was sat by the fire place with her cross-stitch, 'what she like? Is she pretty?'

'Johanna!' scowled Elizabeth, looking up from her Book of Hours, which had once belonged to their mother, 'what have I told you about gossiping and minding your own business?'

'He's my brother too!' replied Johanna, getting to her feet with her hands on hips, 'I was so looking forward to his marriage to Jane. I had a new dress made especially for it, so I want to know if I will one day get the chance to wear it!'

'You can wear it on your wedding day, Johanna,' remarked Thomas, still not looking up from his letter but had long ago given up trying to read it, 'because I'm sure it will be your turn before it is mine,'

Lucy constantly said she enjoyed her status as a widow and the freedom that it granted her. He knew too, that she liked owning her own house and that she would not leave it under any circumstances. But then again, Lucy's house was joined to an even a bigger house, which currently seemed vacant...maybe...

'I'm off to bed,' said Thomas, putting his thoughts to the back of his mind as he got to his feet, 'goodnight,'

'Goodnight,' smiled Elizabeth, as Thomas walked passed her and left the room, before returning to scowl at her other bother and younger sister.

'One day, Elizabeth, the wind will change and your face will stay that way,' remarked Johanna, returning to her cross stitch, 'we were only teasing,'

'You may have been, Johanna,' said John, picking up one of the legal books Thomas had left on the table and started to read the first page, 'but I'm worried for him...only a low type of woman wears lavender,'

'You know from experience, do you John,' muttered Elizabeth, closing her Book of Hours and holding it against her chest, as her mind raced.

* * *

'Thomas,' hissed Elizabeth, tapping softly on her brother's chamber door, 'are you awake?'

Slowly, she opened the door and tiptoed in. Thomas was still awake and was sat writing at his desk by the light of a small candle. He turned and smiled at Elizabeth, as she came in and sat down in the window seat by him.

'I'm worried about you, Thomas,' she said quietly, staring out of the window.

'You do not need to be, Elizabeth,' smiled Thomas, 'for the first time in a long while, I am fine,'

'It's ridiculous, I know,' Elizabeth continued, 'it should be the other way round. But I fear for you, Thomas. I think you are the strongest out of all of us, but at the same time, I think you are the most vulnerable...'

'Elizabeth,' reassured Thomas, catching hold of her hand, 'I promise you, I am fine,'

'Can I meet her then?' whispered Elizabeth. Thomas looked at his sister, not sure what to say. He was sure her and Lucy would get on, but was not sure, what Lucy would make of this request. In the end, he nodded his head in agreement, knowing he could never hurt Elizabeth's feelings.

'Thank you,' she sighed with relief, getting to her feet and kissing her brother on the cheek, 'well goodnight,'

* * *

Down the corridor, John More was sat in his office looking over some legal documents, as he thought on his eldest son. He too had noticed the smell of lavender on Thomas' clothes. It was clear, his and Wolsey's plan was coming together, quicker than they had both thought-Thomas was already starting to let his guard down.

He smiled as he signed the bottom one of the papers, but as he reached for the goblet of wine on the desk, he felt a sharp pain in his head, which disappeared the instant he felt it.


	11. Chapter 11

(Thanks once again for all the great reviews. Hope everyone enjoys this chapter, as I am a bit unsure about some bits of it. The story Thomas tells is from Aesop's Fables and Henry remarks about Henry V is from series one)

Thomas hesitated, before knocking at Lucy's door. It was late in the evening and despite innocent kisses in the clear light of day, as the night began to draw in, Thomas became worried about being completely alone with Lucy. He felt annoyed with himself, for starting to think about the curves of her body and about how warm her body always felt against his; the warmth of which was starting to make his mind think on the two of them together, in a way that was heavily immoral.

'_Whosoever shall look on a woman to lust after her, hath already committed adultery with her in his heart'_

There was nothing sinful about Lucy. He had seen the way she always touched the cross of her poor son's rosary whenever she felt distressed. He had watched her too, kneeling at the altar in church, her lips moving feverishly in devotion to God, his son and the Virgin. The fault was not with Lucy, it was with him. The night before, as she kissed him goodbye, he found he had not wanted to take his hands away from her hips-they had only parted because Joan had returned from visiting her mother.

Joan- Joan would be there! She made it clear that she did not like Thomas, therefore there was little chance of anything sinful happening. Feeling relieved, he knocked on the door.

'Sh,' hissed Lucy, as she opened the door and to Thomas' surprise, he saw she was carrying a baby in her arms, 'I'm trying to get her to sleep,'

With her free hand, Lucy pulled Thomas into the house and shut the door, quietly behind them.

'Thomas,' smiled Lucy, holding up the baby, who Thomas guessed was about six months old, 'this is Madge, your spending the evening with me, aren't you?'

'Whose is she,' asked Thomas, softly, as Lucy put her down in a cot, that was placed just by the fire place, 'unless you have been keeping something from me,'

'Goodwife Smyth, who lives down the street...or rather, she lived down the street. Died this afternoon. Her husband gone to fetch his sister, who lives in Battersea. Joan gone to see if she can buy some milk off someone in the street,'

Thomas watched as Lucy gently put the still wide awake baby down, kneeling down beside the cot as she did so. She seemed so natural with the child, the way she had held it in her arms and then laid her down in old cot, all the time singing softly under her breath. She must be thinking about her son, thought Thomas... Did Lucy want more children?

'Poor little mite,' continued Lucy, looking over Madge, 'no idea of what's going on around her... Maybe it's better that way... Not having to live with the memory of hearing your mother screaming in the next room, only to then fall silent and never make a noise again...the only memory I have of my mother, is of her taking me to Mass one morning, just before she died...she brought me some sweet meats on the way back...How old where you when your mother died?'

'Twenty-one,' said Thomas, distantly, as he joined Lucy by the cot. He missed his mother, she had easy to talk to, unlike his father, who spoke to him more as if he was a business partner than a son. But he never admitted missing her, not even to himself-that would be a great wrong, 'my sister, Elizabeth, wants to meet you,'

'Does she? Why?'

Lucy felt her skin prickle as she spoke. She knew that one day she would have to meet Thomas family, (the same as Thomas would one day have to meet hers), but she had hoped it would be all at once. She did not mind having to meet his stepmother, but it was thought of meeting those who Thomas loved that worried her.

'She worries about me, that is all,'

'And wants to make sure that you haven't fallen into the clutches of a wanton harlot,' smiled Lucy, briefly, before turning her attention back to Madge, as she tucked the shawl around her, 'you are always talking about your father, Elizabeth, John and Johanna, but you never mention your mother,'

'Because she is no longer flesh and blood,' answered Thomas, staring at the small cross, Lucy had hanging on the wall, 'God has summoned her to him, to mourn after four years of death would be a sin against God recalling her to paradise,'

Thomas turned to look at Lucy, finding her with her head bent over the cot, her eyes staring hard at the baby.

'Sorry,' muttered Thomas, 'I was not thinking,'

'What happened with Georgie was different,' said Lucy, looking up at him, 'I feared I played a part in his death, but thinking about memories doesn't have to be mourning. I found they always help. Like the time Georgie got jam all over Our Lady, the King's Mother dress, which I had brought home to finish the stitching on it...by the way, no one except me and Joan know about that,'

'Your secret is safe with me,' smiled Thomas, 'well...one Christmastide, father complained that about the beef being over cooked, she picked it up and threw it at him...it was astonishing really, because my mother was always such a quiet woman,'

'There,' smiled Lucy, 'that wasn't so painful, was it,'

Lucy leaned over to where Thomas was kneeling and turned her head to the side as she went to kiss him, but as their lips were about to meet, Madge started crying.

'Oh Madge,' sighed Lucy, as she laughed, moving back to the cot, 'it's time you were asleep,'

'Maybe if you told her a story,'

'Well, Madge, once upon a time there was a beautiful princess and a handsome prince...'

'That's not a story,' interrupted Thomas, seriously, 'a story is meant to have a moral and meaning,'

'Alright, Mister More. I'd like to see you do any better,'

'Very well,' said Thomas, moving so that he was now sat just by the cot, he leaning over and letting Marge grabhold of his finger, 'The gods were once disputing whether it was possible for a living being to change its nature. Jupiter said "Yes," but Venus said "No." So, to try the question, Jupiter turned a Cat into a Maiden, and gave her to a young man for a wife. The wedding was duly performed and the young couple sat down to the wedding-feast. "See," said Jupiter, to Venus, "how becomingly she behaves. Who could tell that yesterday she was but a Cat? Surely her nature is changed?" "Wait a minute," replied Venus, and let loose a mouse into the room. No sooner did the bride see this than she jumped up from her seat and tried to pounce upon the mouse. "Ah, you see," said Venus,'

Lucy peered into the cot and saw to her surprise that Madge was fast asleep, her little hand still holding on to Thomas' finger. She looked at Thomas in amazement, surprised at how good Thomas had been with Madge-her father had panic every time she had left him with Georgie.

'It work! She's asleep,'

'I...' started Thomas, gently removing his finger from Madge's grasp but before he could continue speaking, Lucy had placed her arms round his neck and her lips on top of his. Despite his fears, he placed his arms round her waist and started kissing her back. Their kisses had grown more passionate in the last few days, but there was still a hint of nervousness to their passion, so when they heard the creek of the front door opening, they hastily parted.

'Not walking in on anything, am I?' asked Joan, as she saw the redness in the firelight on both Lucy and Thomas' cheeks, as they fled to the opposite sides of the room.

* * *

Elizabeth hated the Tower of London and the way it loomed over the city. It made her shiver, as she stood beside it, waiting for Thomas and his friend. Elizabeth wrinkled her noise as she thought of the girl, her brother was bring to meet her. She had promised herself she would be nice and not think ill of this girl, whoever she maybe-even if she was all wrong for him...No, Elizabeth, told herself, she did not know this, she had no right to judge this woman, whoever she maybe.

She looked over to the small jetty, where a barge carrying passengers from all parts of London had just arrived. Elizabeth stared hard at every woman in the boat, trying to finger out which one it could be. Thomas had told her...this girl, Lucy, would be coming from her aunt's house in Putney, so she would have to be arriving by barge.

'Elizabeth,' she heard Thomas call her name and turn round, smiling as her brother came towards her.

'Thomas,' she smiled back, kissing him on the cheek as she greeted him, 'why have you made us meet here. You know I hate this place, especially after what happened to those poor little princes,'

'The world of Kings is played upon...' Thomas started, but then stopped as he saw Lucy, wandering along the riverbank, 'Lucy!'

Elizabeth watched as her brother left her side and went to join Lucy beside the Thames. The woman, who Elizabeth judged to be about the same age as her, was very beautiful and her face lit up even more as she saw Thomas. She watch as the woman, paused before kissing her brother on the cheek and took hold of his hand. They walked towards her, their head turned towards each other as they talked but ever so often they looked away, with a slight hint of embarrassment.

'You look different,' remarked Thomas, with a smile, as the two of them walked back towards Elizabeth.

'I have my hair down,' smiled Lucy, nervously as she rang her fingers through her long blonde hair, 'do you like?'

'It's very... becoming,' replied Thomas, hoping this was the correct answer, as he tried to suppress the thought that he wanted nothing more than to completely alone with Lucy, 'did you...'

'Hello,' said Elizabeth, coming forward, 'I'm Elizabeth, Thomas' sister. You must be Lucy,'

'Yes, hello'

Lucy looked at Thomas, who had taken her unaware yesterday with his sister's request to meet her. She had agreed to meeting Elizabeth but because she knew how close Thomas and his sister were, Lucy found herself rack with nerves.

'So,' continued Elizabeth, taking hold of Lucy's arm and pulling her away from Thomas, 'now my brother tells me, you work in the Palace as a seamstress. I wish I was talented with a needle, but I completely useless,'

'I'm sure you're not,' smiled Lucy, 'it's just a case of practice. My aunt taught me when I was about three, I've been sewing ever since. Maybe if she had taught me, my letters, I wouldn't find writing so painful now,'

'I find that with sewing,' laughed Elizabeth, 'but I sure Thomas would help you, would you not, Thomas? You see my brother likes teaching people new things. Taught me Greek, he tried to teach our sister, Johanna too but she just threw the book across the room. Though, I sure you are a much better student, than our younger sister,'

Lucy glanced back at Thomas, who smiled encouragingly back at her but being described as a student, did not really sit well with her.

'I wouldn't say I was a student,' said Lucy, carefully, 'we are friends, we talk,'

It was Elizabeth's turn to feel uncomfortable now. Talk? Thomas had never really talked with Jane, only speaking to her in very short sentences and only then when she and her father had prompted him to.

'If you don't mind me asking,' asked Elizabeth, 'what do you and my brother talk about?'

'Well,' said Lucy, smiling again as Thomas was once again at her side and taking hold of her hand, 'all kind of things,'

'My brother can be a very hard person to talk with sometimes. Even I have trouble getting him to talk on occasions, so I imagine you find it difficult sometimes,'

'We talk about all sort of things,' repeated Lucy, slightly annoyed at the tone Elizabeth was taking with her, 'last night we talked about my son and your mother,'

'My mother,' gasped Elizabeth, letting go of Lucy's arm. Thomas never spoke about their mother, not to anyone. She, John and Johanna had gotten use to Thomas never joining in the reminiscing, so why would he suddenly change with a stranger, 'Thomas, I just remember, I promised to meet father at Lincoln Inn,'

And with that Elizabeth left, bidding her brother good day, but with only a mumbled goodbye for Lucy, who she now felt even colder towards.

* * *

Lucy stopped as they started to walk inside the Tower of London, just by the part of the palace called the Bell Tower, as she suddenly felt a chill run down her spine.

'Lucy are you feeling well? asked Thomas, concerned as he looked back her and saw that the colour had almost gone from Lucy's face.

'I just felt a ghost walk over my grave,' replied Lucy, trying to smile but there was something about this building looming over them that scared her, 'it's this place,'

As Lucy spoke, she looked up at the Tower. The weather was cool but not enough to cause the chill she now felt and certain not strong enough to cause the goose bumps that now prickled her skin.

'It's a building, Lucy,' Thomas reassured her, with a smile, as her put an arm round her, 'stones and mortar, it cannot hurt you,'

'I lived in this city all my life, Thomas,' sighed Lucy, resting her head on Thomas' shoulder, 'I know what goes on in this place, what they do to people in the prison here,'

'The laws of man are in place to protect the laws of God,' replied Thomas, holding Lucy tighter to him, 'those who break them are subject to punishment,'

'And what about the innocent men and women who find themselves caught on the wrong side of the law?'

Thomas went to reply but before he could, he noticed two guards walking passed, throwing leering glances at Lucy. Sensing Thomas' uneasiness, Lucy put an arm round his waist and the two of them started walking again.

'Your sister doesn't like me,'

'Yes she does,' replied Thomas, who still found it difficult to understand that others did not always feel the same as him, 'Elizabeth just worries about John, Johanna and I. Before mother died, she told Elizabeth that it was her responsibility to look after us but mother did not realise that father would remarry so soon,'

'I think that's why she don't like me, Thomas,' sighed Lucy, shaking her head, 'you spoke to me about your mother, but not her,'

Thomas felt a ache of guilt then. He never spoke to Elizabeth or John and Johanna, about their mother but with Lucy it was different. She had not know her, so speaking with her did not make him realise how much he really missed their mother.

'Thomas,' called Henry, who was stood on green before the White Tower, with the Infanta Catalina, holding a bow in his hand, 'Thomas,'

'I should be getting back,' smiled Thomas, wondering how he was going to get Henry back into the classroom, 'you could always join me,'

'Me!' cried Lucy, shaking her head, 'I don't think so,'

'Why ever not?' replied Thomas, trying to hide his hurt at Lucy's rejection.

'Because your charge is heir to thrown of England and she is a princess of Spain. The woman, who spends her days sewing clothes and sheets, isn't allowed to be round to be around them,'

'It's only the titles which make them different from you and me,'

'Except they didn't spend their childhood picking broken teeth off the floor of their father's tavern, to use them as dice,' continued Lucy, as Thomas guide her over to where Henry and Catalina were practicing archery.

'Thomas,' smiled Henry, as Thomas and Lucy, who quickly fell into a curtsey, joined them, 'do I have to go inside, learning to fight is just as important as Latin, Greek or philosophy. No one remembers Henry V because he built hospitals and schools,'

'Perhaps Harry,' said Thomas, pulling Lucy out of her curtsey, 'it would have been better all around if that was the reason he was remembered,'

'Perhaps,' answered Henry, putting another arrow in his bow, 'but he won us the crown of France,'

'And Henry VI and his advisors lost us France,' mutter Thomas, 'with the exception of Calais,'

'Then,' replied Henry, letting go of the bow and watching the arrow hit the centre of the target, before turning to smile smugly at Thomas, 'Henry VIII will win it back,'

Thomas rolled his eyes, causing Lucy to laugh and forget, briefly, how uncomfortable she felt being around the Prince and the Infanta of Spain.

'You are not wearing pink today,'

Lucy jump, as she hear the exotic voice of Catalina de Aragon, Infanta of Spain and former Princess of Wales, in her ear.

'I'm sorry, your highness,' said Lucy, once again in fluster as she fell into a curtsey.

'You had pink on when I saw you at the joust,' smiled Catalina. Lucy looked down at her dress, she was wearing her pale blue one today-the same dress she had been wearing the day Thomas had walked into her in the busy street, 'I am told you are a very talented seamstress. Do you make your dresses yourself?,'

'Yes, your highness,' replied Lucy, trying to catch Thomas' eye, but he was too deep in conversation with Prince Henry, 'though I wouldn't say I was very talented, your highness, but I know enough to get by,'

'I think you do yourself a great disservice, Goodwife Giggs,' said the Infanta, who was a few years younger than Lucy, warmly, 'Thomas informs me that you are very talented with a needle and from what I know of Thomas, he does not praise people lightly,'

'Did he?' replied Lucy with surprise, not sure whether it was due to Thomas speaking with a former Princess of Wales about her or the complement he had paid her.

'Lucy,' called Henry, 'do you know Latin?'

'Only my prayers, your majesty,' said Lucy, feeling slightly relieved as she felt Thomas once again take hold of her hand. While it did not compare to the nerves she had felt at meeting Thomas' sister, Lucy, who had spent her life in the back scenes of the court was not sure how she was meant to behave when pushed to the front-particularly as a wrong word could cost her, her position, 'and a few words Thomas has taught me,'

'Thomas like's teaching people Latin,' laughed Harry, reaching for another arrow, 'but I sometimes think _ars longa, vita brevis,'_

'Art is long, life is short,' whispered Thomas, and Lucy nodded as she heard his words, 'Harry, if you want to be a Humanist King, you have to know Latin better than you know English. _Lobor omnia vincit,_'

'Hard work conquers all, ' said Henry, letting go of the arrow, but this time the arrow missed. Henry cursed himself under his breath, before once again looking back at Lucy, 'Lucy, has Thomas ever told you what _Te Amo_ means?'

* * *

'So what does _Te Amo_ mean,' teased Lucy, as her and Thomas walked back towards Lucy's home, 'is it rude?'

'No,' replied Thomas, staring straight ahead as he led Lucy through the street, 'I just feel it would be inappropriate to repeat the words in English,'

'It must be, why else would you blush,' said Lucy, trying not to laugh at the pink glint in Thomas' cheeks, 'either that or it's something you don't want me to know,'

They stopped as they reached Lucy's doorstep and they both stood there in silence for a moment. Thomas, despite his earlier longing to want to be alone with Lucy, now found himself as he had the night before, panicking over the prospect of what their bodies could do, if left to their own devices.

'Lucy...' he started, but stopped, as it became clear that they were being watched by two women, stood in the doorway of the tenement across the street.

'Just ignore them. They've got nothing better to do with their time,' said Lucy, raising her voice slightly, before turning back to Thomas, 'so what is it you don't want me to know...is it that there's something wrong with me. Is it my big nose?'

'I can certainly say it is not,' smiled Thomas, more relaxed, as he saw Joan's head bob past the kitchen window, 'and no, you do not,'

'So it's something good then,' continued Lucy, leaning against her front door, ' and not about the way I look..._Te Amo_...two words...I've heard them before, thinking about it...it must be from around the court, cause it doesn't sound like something you hear around my father's tavern,'

Thomas watched as Lucy deciphered the words Henry had teased them with earlier that day. As her face started to also turn pink, Thomas could see she had found the meaning to the Latin.

'Do you?' she asked, as her eyes fell on the ground.

'Do you?'

'Do you want to come in?' smiled Lucy, looking up as she turned to open the door, autumn sun catching her hair as she did so.

'Do you know Joan is home?' answered Thomas, as he joined Lucy on the doorstep. Lucy turned to him and kissed him on the cheek.

'Of course...I wouldn't invite you in otherwise,'


	12. Chapter 12

(Thanks for all the great reviews. They mean so much to me, as I was a bit unsure about parts of the last chapter. Hope everyone enjoys this chapter :))

'Lucy!' cried Joan as she threw open front door, 'look what William got us for our dinner,'

Lucy, who was sat by the fireside sewing, looked up from her stitching briefly but return to it as soon as she saw Joan had William, who was holding a dead pheasant in his hands, with her.

'Pheasant,' Lucy replied, placing the needle into the fabric and pulling it threw, 'brought, William or stolen?'

'Lucy,' shouted Joan, throwing herself down in a kitchen chair, 'don't be so cruel! Poor...'

'So you just have money to throw away on presents for friends, do you William?' said Lucy, examining the stitching on the shirt with a close eye, 'or will the Palace kitchen's books be once again a little uneven?'

William place the pheasant down on the table with a smile and went over to where Lucy was sat. He pulled a stool over and sat down right in front of her, staring straight at her with a grin that showed all his teeth. He liked looking at Lucy, especially her 'forbidden' parts, which is where his eyes now fell. The only reason he let Joan hang around him was because of Lucy but despite how hard he stared at her, Lucy still did not look up from her sewing.

'Come on Lucy Lu,' he laughed, 'it's one of the perks of the job. I know for a fact, you take fabrics from the sewing room to make pretty dresses for yourself,'

'I pay for my fabric,' said Lucy, sharply, picking up her needle and continuing to sew, 'and it's not a perk, William, its dishonest. It's stealing!'

'Stealing! Oh, Lucy Lu,' roared William, his loud laugh echoing around the tiny downstairs of house and Lucy's ears. She did not like William one little bit. He was just like John, except without the violent streak. Biting on her lip, she pulled the thread tight, trying her best to ignore him, 'is that what your Master More tells you?'

Lucy's eyes flew up from her sewing and glared at William, as she heard the sarcastic tone with which William spoke Thomas' name.

'You leave Thomas alone, William,' snapped Lucy, this time pulling the thread on her needle so tight, that it snapped, 'BUGGER! Now look what you made me do!'

'Thomas, is it,' continued William, still laughing as he spoke, 'well believe me Lucy Lu, it will be back to Master More once he had enough of riding you,'

'Riding? Don't be daft, William,' laughed Joan, causing Lucy's anger to boil even more, 'they still have problems with kissing. He looks like scared rabbit, when he's kissing her. If you ask me, he's...'

'Well no one did ask you Joan!' shouted Lucy, jumping to her feet, slamming her sewing down on the floor, 'nor did anyone one ask you, William! Have you two ever though that the reason I spend so much more time with him, than with you is because he doesn't talk to me as if I'm stupid! Nor does he spend the whole time he's with me, leering at my chest William! And my name is Lucy, not your Lucy Lu!'

'It's not how I imagined your home to be like,' said Lucy, with a smile as she stood in the hallway of Thomas' house in Milk Street, 'I'd thought it would be grander,'

'It's just a house,' shrugged Thomas, taking Lucy's shawl and handing it to a main. He was shocked to see Lucy on his doorstep but happy that she had come another step closer into his world, 'a place to live and lean in. Like yours in many ways,'

'Except,' smiled Lucy, going to put her arms round Thomas, but deciding against it as the maid looked at them with serious eyes, before disappearing behind one of the many doors, 'your house doesn't flood every time there is a storm,'

'True,' laughed Thomas, 'so are you saying Lucy, that you only put up with my attentions because you think I'm wealth,'

'Would you love me any less if I was a lady with a title?' replied Lucy, taking hold of Thomas' hand, 'now are you going to show me around,'

'And this is the library,' said Thomas, opening the door to a room, whose walls were decked from floor to ceiling with leather bound books and ageing manuscripts, 'so what was argument with Joan about?'

'She brought William home with her,' sighed Lucy, leaning against the door frame, banging the back of her head as she did so, causing some of hair to escape from underneath her hood, 'and started showing off in front of him. God it's like having a child living with me again. She wants William to like her so much, that she can't see he just using,'

'If you do not mind me asking,' said Thomas, carefully, trying to suppress his annoyance at William's constant leering at Lucy, 'you and Joan seem so different, how did you two become friends,'

'We started at the Palace on the same day. Joan was crying cause she was so nervous, I was told to look after her-been doing the same ever since. Except I sometimes feel like her mother, picking up the pieces every time her heart get's broken,'

'And will you do the same when she realises William does not care for her?'

'Of course. And I will do the same again and again,' smiled Lucy, taking off her hood and letting her hair fall down around her, 'and she says she will do the same for me when you break my heart,'

'Except,' replied Thomas, pushing a strand of Lucy's hair behind her ear, 'I'm not planning to break your heart,'

'I'm glad to here it,'

The house for the first time since Lucy had arrived had fallen silent, letting the two of them realise that they were completely alone in this part of the house. Both had their reasons for putting barriers up, Lucy just as much as Thomas, had fears about letting their emotions overthrown their sense when it came to the control of their bodies, but the idea of being alone in a house full of people, was enough to let them both think they could let their guard down. Still leaning against the door frame Lucy placed her arms round Thomas' neck, as he placed his arms round her waist and pulled his mouth towards hers. It was a passionate kiss, made even more so by the support of the door frame as they could pull their bodies as close to each other as possible without falling away from each other. Lucy let the anger she still felt about her fight with Joan and William turn itself into pleasure as her lips attacked Thomas', while he pulled her as close to him as humanly possible, finding that Lucy's hair bushing against his face made him want her even more.

'I fail to see what is so funny,' remarked Thomas, as Lucy start to laugh about Joan's remark about Thomas being like a scared rabbit, as they pulled away from each other.

'Nothing,' laughed Lucy, taking hold Thomas' hand and dragging him down the corridor, 'now you haven't finished showing me around your house. So what's this room,'

Lucy had taken him down the corridor, to a door which Thomas had just guided her pass without telling her what was behind it, but as she reached for the handle, Thomas went cold and let go of her hand very quickly.

'It's my bedchamber,' he said quietly, looking at the floor as his mind flashed with thoughts about the two of them in a manner that was contrary to the laws of God and cursing himself, for letting his guard down so easily by kissing Lucy, in such away that for most couples the next natural step afterwards would have been the bedchamber.

'Oh...I...' stuttered Lucy, letting go of the door handle as she felt a chill run up her spin. She too was fearing what could pass between them, if their bodies had their own way. Since they had shared that first kiss in the forest in Eltham, Lucy had found herself lying awake in bed, long into the night, tossing and turning, as her body craved Thomas in a way that a woman should crave her husband. But Lucy's fears were different from Thomas', as her stemmed from a fear of letting a man so close to her again, while she still suffered nightmares about what her husband use to do to her.

'Come,' whispered Thomas, slowly taking hold of her hand, 'John and Johanna are home and they are wanting to meet you,'

'I do not know how you put up with my big brother,' laughed Johanna, taking hold of Lucy's arm and leading her over to the window seat, 'he is so serious sometimes. I mean, what is the point of learning Greek?'

'It is the language of leaning, Johanna,' smiled Thomas, recounting how many times he had had this conversation with her and with Henry-they were very much alike in certain ways.

'Well, why can't English be the language of learning?' asked Johanna, 'after all, we all speak it,'

'Maybe, one day it will be,' said Lucy, meeting Thomas' eyes and returning his smile. She felt much more relaxed with Johanna and John, than she had with Elizabeth. They seemed to actually want to meet her, rather than simply judge her as Elizabeth had, 'but I think what your brother means is that's your need to understand other things, to try to understand everything,'

Johanna looked at her seriously and for a brief moment, Lucy saw Elizabeth staring back at her. But soon Johanna once again had a smile on her young face and was laughing.

'Elizabeth said you where just a seamstress, but I think you very clever,' said Johanna, 'I can see why Thomas likes you. I never liked Jane, she was all wrong him, wasn't she John,'

'Yes,' answered John, in a whisper, turning slightly red. John had like Jane, he thought she was sweet and had to suppress his jealousy over Thomas being the one who was going to marry her. He had hoped once their father had cancelled the marriage, that he would be allowed to marry Jane, but their father had not given it a passing though. Despite his love for his older brother, John often felt as if he was the forgotten son and was often over looked in his father's planning-not that this was always a bad thing, as it meant the pressure and strain of their father's expectations always fell on Thomas, 'Johanna, why don't you show Lucy your cross stitch,'

'It's not very good, I'm afraid,' said Johanna, getting to her feet and retrieving her cross stitch from her sewing box, 'it's meant to be Mary Magdalene kneeing before the Crucifixion but I think it's turning more into the Massacre of the Innocents,'

'It's not that bad,' smiled Lucy, looking over the tapestry, 'just remember to do all the stitches the same way,'

'Oh blast!,' sighed Johanna, slumping down beside her, 'stepmother...mother said it did not matter what way the stitches went, as long as they were there,'

'If you don't mind me saying,' replied Lucy, coyly, 'but your stepmother is a fool,'

Lucy's comments caused them all, including Thomas, who usually tried his best to honour thy father and thy mother, to laugh and for Lucy's eyes to sparkle, noticed Thomas, as she relaxed around his brother and sister.

'Ah hum,' came a cough from the doorway, interrupting their laughter and bringing them all to their feet, as John More came into the room with a grave expression on his face, his footsteps echoing around the room. Lucy went over to where Thomas was stood and bowed her head, as she felt John More eyes staring coldly at her.

'Good evening, father,' greeted Thomas with a smile and a respectful nod of the head, before taking hold of Lucy's hand and pulling her close to his side, 'I would like you meet a friend of mine. Father, this is Lucy Giggs,'

'Evening sir,' said Lucy, curtsying as she did so, trying to not to shake as she remembered Wolsey's words about Thomas' father, 'I'm pleased to met you. Thomas always speaks so highly of you,'

'Thank you, my dear,' smiled John More, trying to hide the strain that seeing the woman, who could wreak his grand plans for son, standing in his study, was bringing him. But what made his frustration worse was the way his son looking at her with wide eyes that were full of emotions of the caring nature, 'but it's getting late and the streets of London are too dangerous for a simply woman to be out on her own. Thomas, I think you should take your little friend home,'

Staring out of his chamber window, John More watched as his son walked Lucy home. They were holding hands and laughing as they turned the corner of the street, disappearing from sight. He was not a man who thought greatly about emotions, but he could see that his son and this woman seemed very at easy and close to each other-unlike Thomas and Jane.

Feeling the start of a headache, John More decided to retire to bed, but before doing so, he kneeled before the cross, placed just above the fire place, the way he did every night and put his hands together in prayer.

'_Pater __noster__, __qui__ es in __caelis__,' _started John More, but as he went to say the next line, he found he could not finish reciting the Lord's words. Despite fully embracing his worldly life, John More was still a very religious man, who feared secretly about his life in the world to come, once St Peter had called him. His head was splitting with pain, not just because of his headache, but because of the guilt of lying to his oldest son.

'Morning, Sir John,' smiled Wolsey, as John More entered his office, the lines on his face have deepened since the last time they had met, 'to what do I owe this pleasure,'

'My son,' sighed John More, his head still throbbing with pain, as he sat down in the chair Wolsey had offered him, 'brought that woman into our home last night,'

'Ah, I see,' remarked Wolsey, putting his hands together as he lent back in his chair, closing his eyes slightly, 'well, she will one day be mistress of the household,'

John More, still with a headache, looked Wolsey up and down, not seeing the funny side of his remark. He had seen the way his son had looked at the young woman, who had been stood at his side, smiling nervously as she spoke, but John More could see, that this girl was capable of looking after herself. It was a good thing his wife was staying with her sick sister, because Lord knows what would have occurred if she had seen the woman, capable of stopping the family's rise, sat laughing with Thomas, John and Johanna.

'This is serious. Time is ticking by. The Colts are expecting a wedding by January at the latest. We are already into September, with no sign of Thomas coming to his senses. Maybe it would be simpler all round if I just ordered Thomas to marry Jane. After all, it worked before,'

'But Thomas has never thought himself in love with a woman, who wasn't the Virgin Mary before,' laughed Wolsey, reaching for a letter on the desk and breaking the seal, 'so he still has not brought himself to take her to bed,'

'Do you really think that lust is the only thing that keeps Thomas and that...that woman together?' John More asked, as he was starting to doubt Wolsey theory and felt his headache easing slightly, 'that once the spell has been broken, shall we say, they'll be easily separated?'

John More had built a career and a life on being a successful and brilliant lawyer. He knew when people were lying and he knew when they were telling the truth but as for other emotions, he was not so sure. Love, (to love of someone, who you were not joined together by the bonds of blood), was not an feeling he had any real experience of, but he had seen the way his son had looked at Lucy; there was something in Thomas' eyes that was not simply yearning to bed the pretty blonde.

'Lust is a very powerful emotion,' replied Wolsey, reading the letter, 'and can make men behave in ways they would not normally do so. Often it is confused with love,'

'Sounds like your speaking from experience, Wolsey,'

'We are not here to talk about me, are we John,' muttered Wolsey, 'but your son, who despite his brilliant mind, is unable to see or act on what is staring him right in the face. Well never mind, absence make the heart grow fonder,'

'Pardon?'

'The King, in a rare show of sympathy, is sending the Infanta to Dogmersfield Park as he feels that she needs to get away from the dust and dirt of city,' continued Wolsey, handing the letter he had been reading to John More, 'and in another rare of affection, he has requested that I send two of his mother's finest seamstresses to help with the mending of the Infanta and her ladies' gowns. Do you know which one of Our Lady, the King Mother's seamstresses in the most handy with a needle?'

'I really fail to see, how sending Thomas' 'friend' to Hampshire, is going to help the situation,' replied John More, glancing at the letter briefly before dropping it back on the desk, 'you know Thomas is not the romantic sort. He's more likely to run off to the New World than to rush down to Hampshire to see this woman. No, I can tell you exactly what he will do while his 'friend' is away. He will find some project to keep his mind occurred and wait for her return,'

'I'll let you in on a secret, Sir John. The marriage between the Prince of Wales and the Infanta is back on the cards and the King feels that Prince Henry should be spending more time with his future wife. It will mean him having to take trips to Hampshire, which will mean he will need someone to accompany him on his journey,'

'It's only for two months,' said Lucy, trying to sound positive, 'not forever,'

'It's not too far away,' smiled Thomas, 'a day away by horseback,'

'And the money's good,' added Joan, with a cheery laugh, as she had never left London before, but the cold look she got off Lucy, told her now was not the time for her jolly (or sarcastic), comments, 'well I'll leave you two to do, whatever it is you two do together,'

'Night, Joan,' Lucy nodded, as her friend climb the stairs and disappeared upstairs. The two of them where silent for a moment, as they heard Joan stomping around above them, before climbing into bed, 'so Thomas, do you think I'll see you often,'

'If Harry has his way, it could be everyday,' said Thomas, trying not to sound down hearted by not being able to see Lucy every day, 'besides as you stated, it's not forever,'

Thomas hesitated a moment, before reaching across the table and taking hold of Lucy's hand. Lucy smiled as she felt Thomas thumb run along the top of her knuckles, as it gently tickled.

'I will speak with my father, while your away,' said Thomas, slowly, 'I promise,'

'And why would you do that, Thomas?' replied Lucy, kissing his hand, before getting to her feet and moving to the other side of the kitchen, 'do you want a drink?'

'Just some water, please,' answered Thomas, as he watched Lucy pour some water from a jug into two clay mugs, before handing him the unchipped one, 'because we cannot get married without his permission,'

'You make it sound like a business arrangement,' laughed Lucy, kissing Thomas on the cheek. Lingering a moment, they let their lips meet and briefly kissing, before Lucy pulled away, her face once again downcast.

Leaning on the ledge just by the kitchen window, Lucy took a sip of water and stared hard at the water in the mug. The notion of marriage to Thomas was something she had played with in the back of her mind, but once she caught herself daydreaming about it, she had tried to shake it from her mind. It's not that Lucy did not like the idea nor what it. She was no whore, she would not have placed her lips on Thomas' if she was not sure what she felt for him, but marriage would mean having to face the man who controlled every aspect of Thomas' worldly life.

'And what if your father says no,'


	13. Chapter 13

(Thanks for all the great reviews. Hope everyone likes this chapter. Its getting closer to a certain, important chapter :))

'Father,' said Thomas, slowly coming into his father's study and bowing his head. From an early age, Thomas More had learnt to treat his father with the utmost respect and loyalty. It was a relationship, that was unlike other fathers and sons in the world around them, in that the son always did what the father said. They never argued. There was never any need for them too. John More had made sure that from an early age, Thomas had had discipline 'installed' in him and consequently, Thomas never rebelled against his father, 'can we speak?'

'Of course, Thomas,' replied John More, with a smile as he signalled for his eldest son to sit, 'what can I do for you?'

Thomas did as he was told and sat down opposite his father. Since the day he had learnt to walk and talk, Thomas had been trained to obey his father's every word, so that by the time he was twenty-five, obeying his father's commands was something that came naturally to him.

'I've come to ask for your permission and blessing, father,' said Thomas, despite his nerves, words always came naturally to him, 'I've decided that you were right when you suggested I reconsider the monastery. I would like your permission to marry,'

John More, who had been giving his son his complete attention, suddenly held his breath. Had his and Wolsey's worries been for nothing? Was Thomas and that woman really just friends? Did he want to marry Jane after all?

'Well Thomas,' answered John More, 'I must say, you have taken your time coming to this decision. Do you know the pain you have caused me and young Jane's family?'

'Father,' said Thomas, quietly, as he nervously tapped the arms of the chair with his fingers, 'it is not Jane I wish to marry, but another,'

Feeling his chest tighten, John More got to his feet and went over to his desk, pouring himself a drink of ale from the jug that had been left by his wife, in a rare moment of kindness, on the side. So it was the little harlot, with her over confident eyes, Thomas wanted to marry. The little madam, who would take the family's advancement back a generation, was the one his son, who could rise to even greater things, wanted to marry.

'Is she with child?' asked John More, after taking a deep drink, asking the only logical reason for there being a marriage between his eldest son and that woman. But as he saw the colour drain from Thomas' face, he already knew the answer.

'Dear God father, no,' gasped Thomas, shocked at his father's question, before trying to compose himself, as he remembered whose presence he was in, 'sorry, father. No she is not with child, nor is there any possibility of her being so,'

So they still had not yet consummated their 'friendship'. John More cursed himself under his breath, for having brought his eldest child up so well. Most men would have had their way with the poor wench, before leaving her to marry whoever their parents wished. But not Thomas-he was far too complex for the that, he wanted to marry the girl! Then again, Thomas always did as he was command to do.

'You know, Thomas,' started John More, returning his manor back to that of a well respected lawyer, 'as your father, I have the final say on this matter,'

'I know, father, that is why Lucy and I decided that I should ask for your blessing, before we made any plans,'

'I see,' replied his father, nodding his head in agreement, 'and what have you two decided if I was to say no?'

'I...' started Thomas, but despite being so good with words, he found them suddenly hard to come by. He had assured Lucy, his father would say yes- they had not planned on what to do, if his answer was no, 'we will respect you decision,'

John More went to give his answer, a firm and defiant no and inform his son that he was to marry Jane as soon as possible, but he found he could not. Thomas had looked happier than he had in a long time, when he was with that girl; the grey blue eyes, he had inherited from his mother, always looked so content when he was talking with this Lucy. John More studied his son, as he sat before him now. He could tell, Thomas would do whatever he demanded of him, but Thomas was now looking uneasy at the floor, not able to meet his father's eyes-could John More really break his son's heart? Maybe it was best if Thomas figured things out for himself.

'I am aware Thomas, that your friend has a past, shall we say,'

'I know all about Lucy past,' replied Thomas, looking at his father, his voice regaining his confidence, 'she told me everything the night we first met. But her husband is long dead father, it surely cannot make a difference to how things now stand?'

It was true. A dead husband, was no longer any real issue. Thomas could easily win this debate. A dead husband was no longer a problem, it simply meant that the bride had been touched and the ceremony was a little bit different. John More could easily say no. He had built career on being tough but even he could not face breaking his son's heart. He would have to hope that Wolsey was right-it was lust not love, which caused Thomas and his friend to remain together, that once they had bedded, it would all be over. But for this to happen, John More realised he would have to tell another lie to his eldest and most cherish child.

'Yes, Thomas, you have my blessing,' sighed John More, feeling his head starting to pound, 'you and Lucy may marry,'

'Thank you, father!' cried Thomas, getting to his feet and lovingly embracing the man he most loved and respected in this world. He could not wait to tell Lucy, but news like this could not be done in a letter, it needed to be done face to face, 'thank you, we will both make you proud. As soon as Lucy returns, I will bring her to meet you properly. You two will get on brilliantly, father, you will love her like you love Elizabeth and Johanna,'

'I'm sure I will, Thomas,' smiled John More, trying to get to his feet but as he did so, a sharp pain rushed through his head, worse than any of the pains he had suffered in recent weeks. It made him feel dizzy and so sick, that his legs gave way and he collapsed back into his chair.

'Father!' shouted Thomas, his face and voice now full of concern for his father, who had suddenly lost all the colour in his face, 'what's wrong? Do you want me to fetch a physician?'

'I'm fine, Thomas! Leave it, please,'

'You're not fine, father. Please, at least let me get mother?'

'I said I'm fine, Thomas!' snapped John More, shaking away his son arm, 'now just leave me!'

* * *

'How do you do it, Lu,' sighed Joan, putting down the dress she was sewing, 'why do they all love you?'

'I don't know what you're talking about Joan,' replied Lucy, looking up at her best friend, as her fingers continued sewing the petticoat, 'not everyone loves me. Thomas' sister spoke to me as if I was a simply child. And that Maria de Salinas looks at me as if I'm bad smell, every time she sees me,'

'Perhaps, its cause she, like me, don't understand why a Princess of Spain would take every opportunity to be talk with a common seamstress,'

'Thank you Joan,' laughed Lucy, looking down at the lace she was sewing, 'because she's nice lady and could be Queen one day,'

'And you could be married to her future husband's right hand man,' sighed Joan, 'then you won't want to be friends with the likes of me,'

'Of course, we'll still be friends Joan! Who do you think was going to look after the children?'

Lucy laughed, but Joan looked downcast. Since the argument, just over two weeks, Joan had been thinking hard on her best friend and the man she was hoping to marry. In all the years they had been friends, Joan was the one, who all the attention had went on, (except when Georgie had died, then Joan had been the first one at her friend's side) with Lucy being the one who always looked after her when she was sick, listened to her when she was upset and would help get her out of trouble, when needs be. Joan could not imagine her life without Lucy being there to help and over the weeks she had come to realise the real reason, she did not like her friend's relationship with Master More; and that was Thomas could take her greatest friend away from her.

'Oh, Joan,' cried Lucy, putting down her sewing and rushing over to her, and throwing her arms around her friend, 'it was only a joke. Don't cry. We'll always be friends,'

Joan let go off her sewing as she flopped her head on to Lucy's shoulder, tears dripping from her eyes on to Lucy's dress.

'But when you get married, he'll take you away from me and you won't want to know me, cause I won't be good enough,'

'Joan, of course you're good enough. I'm relying on you to keep me sane around Thomas' family!' answered Lucy, trying to sound cheerful as she kissed Joan on the cheek, 'besides, who says we getting married? His father may says no...'

It was two weeks since Lucy had last seen Thomas and was still waiting for news on what his father had had to say. She had received a letter, but Thomas had made no mention of having told his father, only that he and the Prince were to visit this weekend. Lucy could not make out if this was a good or bad sign-did Thomas want to tell her the good news face to face or did he feel it was his duty to tell her, that they needed to go their separate ways, in person.

'Well, then he'll have to make an honest woman of you without his daddy permission,' smiled Joan, wiping the tears away from his eyes.

'Oh, I wish it was that simple,' sighed Lucy with a little laugh, wondering what happened to the days when the last things she wanted was to be married again, 'but I don't think Thomas knows how to rebel,'

'I sure you can teach,' laughed Joan, almost forgetting her tears. As she laughed, she recalled her meeting with Cardinal Wolsey and the man, she assumed by his looks to be Thomas' father. Joan was not bright but she was not stupid either. She knew why, the Cardinal wanted Lucy out of the way and she could figure out why Thomas' father would not want Lucy as a daughter-in-law, but he had spoken to Joan in away that made her think, that given the right words, he could change his mind ,'anyway I'm sure you could talk his father round. Though I'm sure you'll have to be checked before he says yes,'

'Joan?'

'Well, it makes sense, a family like that. They're not going to let the oldest son marry just any women. You know, they'll probably have your background looked into...you better hope they don't find out about your grandmother, who ended up in Bedlam, thinking she was the Virgin! Father More will probably make you see a physician, who makes you spread your legs, so he can stick a metal clamp up your downstairs to makes sure you ain't got any nasty diseases down there and can pop out at least one child a year,'

Lucy burst out laughing, throwing her head back and letting her hood fall slightly off her head. Despite only having one meeting with Thomas' father, she could tell from that from the words Thomas had spoken, Joan's assessment seemed completely realistic; she could clearly see him firing questions at her, as if she was a witness in a trial. She noticed too, that whenever Thomas spoke about his father, he seemed to have a look in his eyes as if he was completely in awe of him. Lucy guessed that maybe part of Thomas longed to be like his father, with his matter of fact approach to life, instead of feeling the need to constantly question things.

'Lucy,' said Joan, carefully as she returned to her sewing, 'if his father does say no, what will you do then?'

'Well,' replied Lucy, trying to sound confident in her answer, 'I will just carry on with life. I still have my job, you and my family. I will just carry on as before. After all, I survived without Thomas before, I'm certain I can do it again,'

* * *

'Lucy!'

'Thomas!' gasped Lucy, surprised to meet Thomas on the staircase, as she was taking one of Catalina's mended dresses up to her, 'I thought you weren't coming for another few days,'

'Henry managed to talk his father round,' replied Thomas with a smile, 'I was just coming to find you,'

'It's a good thing Mistress Green is deaf and almost blind,' grinned Lucy, leaning against the cold stone wall, 'because if Mistress Martin found you below stairs, I'd be out of job so fast, my feet wouldn't have a chance to touch the floor,'

'I doubt she would be quiet so harsh,' said Thomas, softly, looking down at the steps briefly before looking up and letting his eyes met Lucy's, 'if she knew the news I have for you,'

Lucy looked at Thomas, whose smile suddenly dropped. She felt uneasy, because she knew the news that Thomas was carrying for her and the importance of it for both of them, but then she also knew Thomas sense of humour.

'He said yes, didn't he?'

'Maybe,'

'Don't maybe, Thomas More,' snapped Lucy, rather more harshly then she intend it to be, 'I don't live my life on maybes,'

'Of course he said yes,' laughed Thomas, as Lucy dropped the dress and threw her arms around him, 'did you expect him to say anything but?'

Forgetting that they were stood in the middle of a spiral stair case, Thomas placed his arms around Lucy's waist as they let their lips meet. It had been two weeks since they had last kissed and that had only been the briefest of kisses, as Joan had walked in on them, telling Lucy it was time for them to leave, but they made up for it now, letting their bodies press up as close as possible to each other; neither giving the intensity a passing thought, as what difference did it make now? After all, they would soon be husband and wife.

* * *

'Can I say I've missed you,' asked Thomas, as they sat in the busy village tavern, waiting for their food. Thomas, as his father had said he would, had done everything possible to stop the hurt he felt at missing Lucy. He had read almost every book he could lay his hands on, had written letters to everyone he knew and had made Henry work so hard, that the young Prince had almost mastered both Latin and Greek.

'If it's true,' smiled Lucy, 'then you can say it, but then you would only say it if it was true, Thomas,'

'Am I that easy to read?'

'Only to me,' laughed Lucy, taking a sip of her ale as her stomach rumbled with hunger, 'oh, I know you're not perfect, you're probably like most men. You've probably told me, I've looked nice, when really I look like I've been dragged through a hedge backwards, but when it comes to important things, I know you could never lie about them, as it would be the opposite of what you felt,'

They both exchanged smiles, as hesitantly Lucy kissed Thomas on the cheek, before trying to see if there was any sign of their food but gave up, as it seemed most of the village had had the same idea as them, wanting a hot meal and a chance to get out of the pouring rain.

'So what else do you read from me?' asked Thomas, taking hold of Lucy's hand and letting himself think, briefly, that soon she would have a new wedding ring on her finger.

'Well, that you probably paced up and down your hall outside your father's study before you saw him, though you didn't rehears your words, as you always know exactly what to say. You have driven Prince Henry mad, making him learn every word of Latin and Greek that has ever been spoken and if I'm not mistaken, you've probably read and re-read every book you could get your hands on in the evening, as you didn't have me to visit. Am I right, Master More?'

'Close enough,' laughed Thomas, amazed that Lucy knew him so well. He looked her straight in the eyes as she spoke and saw her sparkling blue eyes staring back at him. There was one thing she had missed out; how he had felt at nights, when he was being tormented by feelings for her- feels that had no place alongside his love for her. Recalling this, he looked away, 'I think it's my turn now. I think, you missing not being in London, not having all your luxuries close to hand has frustrated you, but you are resourceful, so you found alway to make do. You like having Joan with you, even if she is still depending on you far too much. And despite the fact, you keep telling yourself you hate the country, you really would not mind living here, as it would mean you could finally have a garden,'

'How do you know about the garden,' replied Lucy, touching the cross round her neck, 'I've never mention it,'

'You did not have too. You are the only person I know in London, who actually looks after her flower boxes,'

Lucy sighed with a smile, as she moved closer to Thomas and rested her head on his shoulder. She had always wanted a garden, for Georgie to playing in. She use to tell him stories of the games they would play in it, once they had a big house with some grass. They had planted the flowers together and Lucy had told him that one day they would grow into a garden, so that when he had died, she had kept the flower boxes alive in memory of him and the dream they had once had.

'Lucy,' said Thomas, as he gradually put an arm round her waist concerned that she had gone quiet, 'I have missed you... Te amo'

'Te amo,' replied Lucy, surprising herself as she uttered the words-she never thought she would ever utter those words in English, let alone Latin, 'te amo,'


	14. Chapter 14

(Thank you for all the reviews and a big thank you to SSLE, for your advice on this chapter-it was a great help. Hope everyone enjoys this chapter)

'I told you we should have stayed where we were,' muttered Lucy, loud enough so Thomas could hear it, 'I knew we wouldn't make it through the rain,'

'They only had one room left,' replied Thomas, staring out into the rain, which was pouring down so hard that it was impossible to actually see what was in front of you, 'given the circumstance...'

'Given the circumstances,' said Lucy, pulling the cloak Thomas had given her, to help her keep dry, tightly around her, (even though it was now soaking wet), 'we are now sheltering in a barn, having not even made it to the end of the village,'

She sighed, sitting down on the heap of dry straw, trying to stop herself from shivering, as she freed her hair from its hood, whose starch fabric had gone soft in the rain.

'I thought it was for the best,' sighed Thomas, sitting down next to Lucy. It had been for the best, how could they possible share a room and a bed, 'Lucy, you're shivering,'

Putting an arm around Lucy's shoulders, Thomas felt guilty as he could feel her trembling against him. When the innkeeper had kindly suggested to him, that he and his 'wife' should take their last room, instead of taking their chances in the storm, Thomas had felt his chest tighten with panic. He's mind wandering on him and Lucy in an embrace that was most unholy, was bad enough in the nights when he laid by himself in his darken chamber, so sharing a room with Lucy could only made those imaginings beyond unbearable.

'You're cold too,' whispered Lucy, as she moved herself closer to him and put an arm round his waist.

'I'll survive,' smiled Thomas, 'your worth the worry. I, I'm afraid, am not,'

'You are to me,'

Lucy placed her hands, gently on side of Thomas' face, which was cold with rain, and her lips on top of his. Thomas responded quickly, finding that despite his fears, he could never help himself once he felt Lucy's mouth on his skin. As they kissed, they turned towards each other, finding warmth in their embrace. Their senses disappeared, as they moved closer together, crushing their mouths and bodies against one another, Lucy placing her fingers through Thomas' hair, pressing her mouth hard against his, as Thomas tightened his hold on her waist. The passion running through them, they fell back on the straw, their lips refusing to part.

Suddenly a flash of lightening and a roll of thunder erupted from the skies, causing them both to jump apart. It was then, as they both tried to look at each other, they realised how close they had been-so close that Thomas hand, had been on Lucy's leg.

'I think,' said Thomas, finding it hard to look at Lucy as he help her to her feet, 'we should go back to the inn. I'm sure we can get separate rooms somehow,'

* * *

'You said yes!' replied Wolsey with a raised eyebrow as he and John More sat before the fire place, 'we are meant to separating them, not walking them down the aisle,'

'I asked Thomas,' answered John More, as levelly as he could, given that his head was still causing him grief, 'if the woman was excepting. My son turned completely white and informed me that not only is she not, but there was no chance of her being so,'

'So you told him, he could marry the girl and get has many children off her as he could,' muttered Wolsey, getting to his feet and going to the fire and warming his hands. He was the youngest of the two men, in fact he was only a few years older than Thomas, but unlike him, Wolsey had sacrifice his conscious and integrity, (the two things Thomas most held dear), a long time ago and at the moment, he felt the most sane one in this mess.

'No, I said he had my blessing,'

'You know as well as I do, Sir John,' said Wolsey, turning back to stare hard at John More, who met his glare despite the difficulties, 'that your word to Thomas, is as good as the Angel Gabriel blessing the union himself,'

'That why I have done, what I have done, Wolsey,' snapped John More, getting out his seat and wondering over to the fire. He was not proud of what he was doing to his eldest son, he himself thought it was wrong, but it was for the best. Thomas would have tormented himself, if he had forbad the marriage, but if Thomas himself could come to see that his feelings for this woman...Lucy...were simply lust, not love, it would mean less pain, 'Thomas will never see that his feels for this girl are false as long as I simply say no, but now he knows that he has my blessing, he will start to see his feelings for the girl are simple those of lust-and now his guard really is down,'

'Sir John, are you aware' smiled Wolsey, looking down at the flames as he let out a little laugh, 'that for the first time since this business began, you have not referred to Goodwife Giggs as a trollop, madam or wench, simply as the girl. Is it possible that you have started to go softy on her also,'

'I don't think her a harlot, if that's what you mean,' said John More, rather wearily as his head continued to cause him pain, 'in truth, I am sure she is rather pleasant, if a little over confident in her manor,'

It was true. John More, try as he might, he could no longer be bitter towards this woman, who was causing him many worries. During his time as a lawyer, he had come across many deceitful women, who through their lies, tricks and whoring had caused many, (not just to men), heartache, but this woman did not seem to fit in with those whores.

'I think she does care for Thomas,' continued John More, sitting back down, 'but that does not alter my mind. The contracts are signed. Thomas will marry Jane,'

* * *

'Please Thomas,' pleaded Lucy, as she kicked off her shoes as she sat on the edge of the small double bed, 'you can't sleep in the chair. Sleep in the bed, we don't even have to look at each other. I'll face one wall and you can face the other. Please Thomas, don't make me feel guilty,'

'Don't feel guilty, Lucy,' replied Thomas, looking away as Lucy peeled off one of her stockings, trying not to think on earlier in the evening, when his hand had been on her leg, 'I...I will wait outside. Call me when you finished undressing,'

He hurried towards the door to their room, without looking back, desperate to be out of there as quickly as possible, as he was finding it difficult to breath.

'Thomas!' Lucy called, but he had already shut the door and collapsed against it, gasping for breath, pulling desperately at the neck of his doublet.

* * *

'Thomas!'

Coming slowly back into the room, Thomas' found Lucy sat on the edge of the bed, dressed in her simple white shift. She had unpinned her hair, which was still wet from the heavy rain and was now hanging lose around her, covering her face as she looked down at the floor, studying her pink cold toes.

'Do you know how selfish, you can be, Thomas?' she said, almost in a whisper, 'you're not only one whose suffering?'

'Forgive me, Lucy,' replied Thomas, sitting down next to her but as he did so, she got to her feet and went over to the other side of the bed, 'it was never my intention to be cruel to you,'

'I know,' sighed Lucy, pulling back the many blankets on the bed, climbing under them, lying down her with her back to Thomas, 'I know,'

Thomas turned to look at Lucy, biting his lip as he saw her blonde hair lying on the pillow and hesitated as he debated whether to reach out and take Lucy's hand, but decided against it. Instead, he blew out the candles by the bed and got undressed in the near darkness, trying to forget Lucy presence.

'I never liked it with John,' Lucy said, breaking the silence as Thomas sat back down on the bed, 'it always hurt. He use to hold me down, leaving burses on my hands and neck. I use to countdown the moments till it was over. I use to stare at the crack in the ceiling until he'd finished with me. And when it was over and he was asleep, I use to prayer to God and all the saints in Heaven to make me clear again. So don't you think that you're the only one whose scared or confused, Thomas. Don't think you're the only one, whose mind and body is plagued with wants that you don't understand,'

Lucy felt a tear run down her cheek as she spoke and wiped it away with back of her hand. She felt so silly as she did so, she thought she was stronger than that but Lucy did not understand what was happening to her, anymore than Thomas understood what was happening to him. She had never wanted John to touch her in anyway, but with Thomas it was different.

'But I'm not dirty, Thomas!' Lucy continued, her voice trying to sound strong, 'whatever you might think,'

They lay there in silence, listing to the rain pounding hard against the firmly closed shutters. The thunder and lighten had died down, but just at that very moment the thunder start again, echoing around the room, causing Lucy to jump and close her eyes against it. She did not like thunder and lightning, for all her toughness, as it reminded her of being a child alone in her little bedroom, crying for her mother to comfort her-only there came a day, when her mother stopped coming.

Lucy screwed up her eyes and pulled the blankets tight around her, but as she did so, she felt a hand on top of hers.

'I could never think of you as dirty, Lucy,' whispered Thomas, through the darkness as his hand gently stroked her's, 'it's me whose unclean,'

'Thomas,' said Lucy, turning around so that she was facing Thomas' back, but then he turned around and joined her, 'I won't say we are both pure, cause that would be wrong, but we are getting married...you do still not want to marry me?'

To both of their surprise, Thomas reached out and pulled Lucy towards him, holding her against him.

'Never doubt me, Lucy,'

By the light of the fire burning in the small fire place, Lucy slowly placed her hand on the side of Thomas' face and guided his lips to hers, kissing him gently, not sure of how this night would end.

'Its not the same pattern,' smiled Lucy, as their lips parted and she felt Thomas' hand on the lace of her shift, causing her to bite on her lip as she feared she might groan at feeling his touch so close to her skin, 'its all off cuts, Mistress Martin let me have them for a few pennies. I try and match them up as best I can,'

'Lucy,' started Thomas, as his hands continued to caress Lucy's body through her lace gown, forgetting the tiny voice in his mind telling him no, 'te amo,'

'Te amo,' replied Lucy, before once again kissing him, though this time despite the nerves, passion re-entered their kiss, as their bodies moved so that now Lucy was now almost lying beneath him, 'Thomas we, don't have to,'

'Do you want to?' asked Thomas, nervously as he pulled slightly away from her and Lucy lowered her eyelids briefly, before once again looking straight into his eyes and pulling him back to her.

'I want to,'

'I want to too,'

* * *

They kissed, like they had done earlier that the evening when they had been sheltering from the rain in the barn, their arms wrapped tight around each other as was humanly possible. When they finally managed to part, Lucy, trying to hide her nerves and reassure Thomas with her most confident smile, as she guided one of his hands to the bottom her shift, parting her legs as she felt him gradually pull the fabric up to her waist. As he did so, Lucy started to giggle.

'Your hands are cold,' she smiled, as Thomas looked hurt by her sudden outburst and moved his hand away from her waist, only for Lucy to catch hold of it and guide it back on to the flesh of her hip, 'can you kiss me, Thomas?'

It was Thomas' turn to reassure Lucy now, who was just as scared as him. As they kissed, Lucy wrapped her arms tight around Thomas shoulders' clinging to him as she tight as she could, as they moved their bodies into position.

Biting on her lip, Lucy felt him enter her, but it was not like how it was with John, it did not hurt or feel dirty, so when she threw her head back and gasped, it was in pleasure, not in pain.

* * *

"Now the works of the flesh are manifest, which are fornication, uncleanness, immodesty, luxury, . . . Of the which I foretell you, as I have foretold to you, that they who do such things shall not obtain the kingdom of God."

With the words of St Paul, echoing in his mind, Thomas knelt before the cross at the altar of the small parish church and prayed feverish to God-what had had he done?

'_Pater noster, qui es in caelis: sanctificetur Nomen Tuum; adveniat Regnum Tuum; fiat voluntas Tua, sicut in caelo, et in terra. Panem nostrum cotidianum da nobis hodie; et dimitte nobis debita nostra, Sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris; et ne nos inducas in tentationem; sed libera nos a Malo '_

It was still early morning, still dark in the village, when he had left Lucy fast asleep in the tangled sheets. She looked beautiful, with her long blonde hair covering the pillow, but he had ruined them both.

When they had both collapsed in gasps and groans, they had smiles on their flushed faces as they had part and kissed, before falling asleep with Lucy's head resting on his chest, his arms around her. Lucy had fallen asleep before him, snuggling against him, her long hair covering them both. He had not panicked then, as he had fallen asleep, he had though how at peace she looked, but as he had slept, he found his dreams plagued by visions of Hell, his body being twisted and snapped amid the flames. Leaving Lucy, he had quickly dressed and rushed over to the church that faced the inn and had thrown himself before the cross and God.

They had sinned. They had committed the worse offence in the eyes of God, listening to their bodies, instead of their conscious'. No, Lucy was not the one to blame, it was all his doing. She had been venerable and he, instead of helping her, had taken advantage and thrown the both of them into the claws of Satan. He had made a whore of Lucy, he had stained her, as well as himself.

Feelings his nails dig into the backs of his hands, he was prayer so hard, Thomas tried to look at the statute of the Virgin Mary and utter the words of _Salve Regina_ but found he could not and the words stuck in his throat, almost choking him. Lucy was devoted to the Queen of Heaven, how could he face asking for the Virgin Mother for her blessing and guidance, after what he had done to her loyal daughter?

* * *

' _Ave Maria gratia plena Dominus tecum Benedicta tu in mulieribus et benedictus Fructus uentris tui Iesus sancta Maria mater Dei ora pro nobis peccatoribus nunc et in hora mortis Amen'_

The words echoed in Thomas' mind, as he opened the door to the small room, where he and Lucy had given into want. He found Lucy awake, kneeing on the bed, in which they had sinned, with Georgie's rosary in her hands and her lips moving in rhythm with the moment of her fingers on the beads.

Closing the door, slowly behind him, Thomas watch with guilt as Lucy prayed. She had lit some candles, as the room was now full of light, that made her hair look golden, against the white of her lace shift. Thomas found himself more racked with guilt as he found himself, thinking how stunning she looked. He loved her so much it hurt, but all the time he was dragging her down with him.

'Do you know Thomas,' said Lucy, after saying '_amen' _and kissing the cross, before placing it back around her neck, 'if the Blessed Mother appeared in this room now and commanded me to dedicate my life and love to her and her, only, I wouldn't hesitate,'

'I should hope you would,' replied Thomas, surprised at himself, as he found he had a small smile on his lips. Lucy reached out a hand to him and Thomas, hesitantly at first, took hold of it, let her guide him to the bed.

'I love you,' Lucy smiled, not letting go of Thomas' hand as he sat down on the bed, 'and I hope you still love me?'

'Lucy, my love for you frightens me it's so strong,' said Thomas, looking at their linked hands, 'but I fear I do you no good. I will ruin you,'

'Thomas,' cried Lucy, sternly but with a soft edge, 'you couldn't ruin me. I chose to give myself to you. We have done nothing wrong,'

'You have not, Lucy. The fault lies completely with me. Please forgive me,'

'Thomas, there is nothing to forgive!'

'There is everything to forgive! I have made a whore out of you!'

'Thomas,' smiled Lucy, trying to move her sight in line with the Thomas, only he still wouldn't look at her, 'you have not made me a whore!'

Thomas shock his head from side to side. He wanted to see Lucy reason so much, but the words of Thomas Aquinas and St Augustine were so embedded in his mind, he could see only the flames of Hell.

'Lucy, I lust after you, not just tonight, but almost every night since I first laid eyes on you. Not for the only reason God allows, for the getting of children, but because I wanted to feel your body close to mine, to feel your flesh against me...and I enjoyed every moment of us lying together,'

Lucy still with a smile on her lips, rested her head on Thomas shoulder, and placed an arm around his waist. She did not feel hurt by Thomas words, unlike most women, she found them only make her love him more-no one had ever cared for immortal soul, as well has her mortal body before.

'Thomas the only thing that has made me feel like a whore, was waking up and finding the man, I had just given myself to, gone,' she said, raising an eyebrow, 'we are flesh and blood Thomas, we make mistakes and I may not be as clever as you, but I'm sure even the Saints made mistakes in their lives, before they were blessed. One night will not commend us to Hell and as for all the other nights, once we are married- well, then we'll have to have a lot of children, won't we?'

Thomas with all the strength he could find, managed to look into Lucy eyes and found, that she too suffered from fear, but with it, he saw that compassion and comfort in her eyes-things he did not deserve.

'But don't you see, Lucy, that this is the problem. I want you, because I want you, not for the getting of children, but because I...'

Lucy did not let him finish, but lent forward and kissed him on the lips, waiting for Thomas to respond, which he did after much hesitation.

'Do you love me, Thomas?'

'More than I thought possible,'

'Then that is all that matters,' smiled Lucy, 'we have done nothing wrong. Maybe we should have waited, but we still have not committed any great wrong. Have you considered that maybe it was enjoyable, because it was with the right person?...I don't have any simple answers Thomas, but just promise me, you won't send yourself mad with guilt over me. I couldn't live with myself, if you did,'

'It should be me, protecting you,' replied Thomas, returning Lucy's smile as he pulled her against him.

'You do protect me, Thomas,' said Lucy, snuggling against him, 'more than you'll ever know...Come, it is still night. Let's go back to bed,'

Lucy climbed back under blankets, as Thomas undressed, before joining her. Feeling not yet free of guilt but comforted nevertheless, as Lucy rested her head on his chest and he wrapped his arms around her, Thomas felt surprisingly at peace.

'Te amo,' he whispered, kissing Lucy on top of the head, as she cuddled against him.

'Te amo, Thomas,'

* * *

Wolsey was getting scared. He had worked hard all his life to get to the position of power, he was now in. He was on the eve of greatness, all that was need was for King Henry to die and for his son to ascend the throne. It had been a long struggle and while Wolsey was not a cruel man, he was not about to have his destiny taken away from him by Thomas and his little serving wench.

'I want to know everything,' said Wolsey, staring hard at the messenger, who he had summoned to his house before daybreak, 'every little aspect of Goodwife Lucy Giggs life, I want reported back to me. I do not care how small a detail it is, I want to know everything. If she once cough loudly during mass, I want to know about it. Do I make myself clear?'

'Yes, your eminency,' replied his messenger, with a nod of the head before turning to leave, only for Wolsey to call him back with the wave of his hand.

'From what I can recall,' continued Wolsey, looking over the papers he had left on his desk only a few hours earlier, 'her deceased husband, John Giggs was a man of interesting character. May I suggest you start there?'


	15. Chapter 15

(Big thank you to MrsPhantomSylvia and SSLE for all your help and advice on this chapter. Hope everyone enjoys this chapter. The poem at the start is by Sir Thomas More)

'_Your yellow hair enhanced the pure white of your neck; your lips by contrast with your face were like roses in the snow; your eyes, like stars, held my eyes fast and through them made their way into my heart: I was helpless, as though stunned by a lightning stroke, when I gazed and continued to gaze upon you face,'_

Was it wrong? thought Thomas, staring hard out of the window of the manor house, trying to gather his thoughts; thoughts which had been plaguing his mind repeatedly since that night in the tavern-and more importantly, since last night in Lucy lodgings, when their bodies had once again given into desire. They had not meant to. As they had walked back from the tavern in the earlier morning, they had both agreed to wait until their wedding night. But last night as they had kissed, whilst sitting by the fire, once again passion overcame reason as they realised that there was no-one to disturb them. They had been arguing over Lucy still not having told her father about them and their plans. Thomas had felt annoyed that he had yet to meet Lucy's family, despite her having met almost every member of his (except his step-mother, but that was probably for the best). Lucy, on the other hand, could not understand his hurt-it was she he wanted to marry, was it not? Not her father, aunt and cousins. But as they had exchanged words, their lips had once again found each other's and their hands had pulled their bodies frantically together, until they were both lying on the floor.

'I cannot wait,' whispered Thomas, ashamed of himself, as their lips parted and he pulled away. In their embrace, their bodies had fallen into the natural position, so that he was almost lying on top of Lucy.

Thomas looked at Lucy, with her long hair, which had tumbled out of her braid, framing her beautiful face and her stunning blue eyes, which seemed to stare into his soul. He had always thought himself good at resisting temptation. When at Oxford, as the other students had been getting drunk in the taverns among the colleges, he had locked himself away in his rooms, but Lucy was different. She stirred emotions in him, which he thought was wrong, but it was not feelings tied with lust-it was love and the passions that went with it. Was it really so wrong and so against God's will to feel this way?

'Thomas,' smiled Lucy, placing her hands on side of Thomas' face and pulling her body up to him, her lips bushing up against his mouth, 'I can't wait either,'

Thomas opened his mouth, meeting Lucy's and they had kissed again, once again falling back on to the floor before the fire, their hands needing no guidance this time, as they...

'Och!' Thomas was brought out of his thoughts as he felt something clip him on the ear. He turned round to see Henry, smiling innocently back at him, but the crumbled paper on the floor told a different story, 'Harry?'

'You were daydreaming, Thomas,' replied Henry, still grinning, 'and you are always telling me off for daydreaming,'

'Harry, I never tell you off,' smiled Thomas, sitting back at the desk, 'maybe I should learn to do so,'

'You could never do that,' laughed Henry, leaning back on his chair, against the wall, 'so were you thinking about Lucy? I like her, she's sweet,'

'Plato's _Republic,' _coughed Thomas, ' is seen as ...'

'I'm not a fool Thomas, I see the way you look at her. Everyone sees the way you look at her and I've seen you two kissing, so do not pretend to me that you are just friends. Besides I know your getting married, so I do not see why you keep trying to hide it,'

'I'm not trying to hide anything,' laugh Thomas, briefly forgetting his troubles, 'I'm just trying to get you to do some studying-and yes, Lucy is sweet,'

'Well,' said Henry slyly, tilting his head to side as he traced a finger along the crack on the old wooden desk, 'if you let me go riding, you can spend the rest of the day with your future wife,'

Once again Thomas laughed, as he stared Henry straight in face, meeting Henry's encouraging smile, as he tried to make his eyes seem pleading. Henry was a lot like Johanna in many ways, it was her favourite trick to try and get her way with their father and mother, making her large brown eyes (she had got her eyes from their mother) as wide as she could, so pity would be taken on her.

'Except Harry, you are over looking one small point,' smiled Thomas, smoothing out the ball of paper Henry had thrown at him and saw that it contained Latin grammar, 'Lucy and I both have to work to do, the same as you but for very different reasons. A good humanist King would realise this and would recall that hard work is more important than sport, as would...'

Thomas felt his chest tighten, the smile going from his lips as he spoke. He was going to say, a good Christian but the words stuck in his throat. Was he still a good Christian? Had he not sinned last night and a few nights before, when he had given into his body and brought Lucy into offence with him?

'Continue to read Plato,' Thomas stuttered, getting to feet and heading to the door, 'I will return in a moment,'

* * *

Thomas knelled at the altar in small chapel and put his hands together in prayer. Unlike a few evenings ago when he had prayed feverish to God and the Saints, this afternoon, despite his panic, Thomas found himself a lot more calmer and able to truly reflect.

They had made love with great passion, not one moment of it feeling wrong. As their bodies had joined together and moved in perfect rhythm, their eyes locking together throughout. He saw the love in Lucy bright eyes, as he felt his pleasure increase as he heard her lips gasp his name as she embrace him as tight as her arms, (and legs), would let her. Afterward, their hot, sticky mouths had kissed deeply, before they both fallen asleep, still fully clothed by the fire, with their arms wrapped around each other.

It was not dirty. They had both been awaken by the sound of a fox or something scurrying around outside, but this time Thomas had not panic, in fact he found his body was perfectly at peace beside Lucy, who did not resemble the incarnation of sin, just her beautiful self.

With his lips moving, Thomas eyes looked at the jewelled crucifix, which bore the replica of body of Christ. Had he not died for love? Thomas thought too much, everyone always said that about him, even his mother had remarked on it, when he had just started to talk and bother her with endless questions about the world around him. He had sinned in the past. Wolsey was right, he was no saint and his father had certainly made him see the error of his ways, when he had done wrong as a boy. Thomas knew what it was like to feel guilty, so why did he not feel it now? Was Lucy right, did the strength of their love overcome the sin?

'Thomas,' cried Lucy, running into the chapel, crossing herself as she did so, 'thank the Virgin that I found,'

'Lucy, what on Earth has happened,' asked Thomas, getting to his feet and taking hold of her hand, 'are you...'

'No, I'm fine,' gasped Lucy, trying to catch her breath, 'it's the Prince, he's had an accident!'

* * *

'What happened, Harry?' asked Thomas, making his voice sound as stern as he could, 'I recall telling you to read Plato's _Republic. _So I'm finding it difficult to understand how a classic of Greek literature, came to cause you having a suspected broken leg?'

'Well Thomas,' replied Henry, shifting uncomfortably on the bed, as Thomas sat down on the small stool beside him, 'I think your find, had you not left me, none of this would have happened,'

Henry looked over at Thomas, hoping he would see the funny side, but found Thomas just looked back at him, his face emotionless, causing Henry to feel guilty. Thomas never lost his temper with him, in fact, Henry doubted very much that his tutor had ever lost his temper with anyone; Thomas would just go silent, if he was hurt, which was what he was doing now, making Henry feel uncomfortable.

'You were gone such a long time, Thomas, that I finished the book and decided to go ridding,'

Thomas sighed and got to his feet, turning his back on Henry, who once again shuffled uncomfortable. How was he going to explain this to Wolsey or worse to the King? He was meant to be educating Henry and keeping him away from harm, not letting him fall down some stairs, maybe breaking his leg. He already more than aware of King Henry increasing dislike for him. Thomas knew the only reason he was tolerate was because the like the departed Elizabeth of York had had for him, not to mention that he was the only one who could get Henry to study for more than five minutes. It did not really worry him as such, if he lost his position at Court, but then again, he would soon have a wife to support and maybe, God willing in a few months, they would have a child on way. Though he was sure he and Lucy could get by on a lawyer's pay-it was the thought of having to see the hurt and disappointment on his father's face, which cause him the most strain.

'You are angry with me, aren't you Thomas?'

'No, I'm not angry,' answered Thomas, quietly, looking out at the autumn sky, 'just disappointed,'

He turned round to look at Henry, who genuinely seemed upset, his head slumped on his chest and his fingers playing nervously with his cuffs of his shirt.

'You're lucky Thomas,' he sighed, 'you are the oldest the son, you have always had the love and attention of everyone. Your father has always known of your existence, you were not just the one left in the background, only being brought out when it was needed to make a point to your father's enemies,'

'Harry,' smiled Thomas, going back over to the stool, 'that was never the case. Your mother...'

'Yes, my mother, but not my father. Arthur was his favourite. Arthur, because he was going to be King of Camelot. Father let me do whatever I wanted as long as my brother was alive. I could go riding when I wanted, I could play archery, go hawking and dance, but then Arthur dies and suddenly it's Henry, you cannot do that, its not good for your health, you must do this, you cannot say that, you must say this. It's not fair, Thomas,'

'Well, Harry, God did not mean us to get to Heaven on feathered beds,' continued Thomas, leaning forward and helping Henry, prop himself further up on the pillow. He was right, Thomas was the oldest son, but that only meant that Thomas, knew more than most the pressure Henry was under, 'life is a trial, a rehearsal for the world to come. It imposes trials on us that we must injure,'

'Like living your life by other expectations,'

'Oh, Harry!' cried Catalina, flying into the room, causing Henry to drop the serious expression from his face and replace it with lovesick, puppy dog eyes, 'what have you been doing now?'

* * *

'So what did the physician say this morning?' asked Lucy, as she and Thomas walked around the grounds of the manor in the late afternoon light. It was two days since Henry's accident and messages where still travelling to and fore from Eltham, deciding whether Henry should travel or not.

'They are certain it's not broken,' answered Thomas, pulling Lucy a little tighter to him as they walked, 'but just to safe, they think we should remain here another week,'

'So,' smiled Lucy, stopping and placing her arms around Thomas' neck, 'your be here for the harvest festival and can protect me from William's wondering eyes,'

'After what I witnessed at the joust,' said Thomas, placing his arms around Lucy's waist and pulling her warm body against him. Unfortunately, William was the only cook, who could prepare Henry favourite dishes, therefore he had travelled with them on the journey from Eltham-much to the annoyance of Lucy and Thomas, but not to Joan, who was still blinded by him, 'I think you can more than handle yourself,'

'Maybe,' whispered Lucy, bring her lips toward Thomas', 'but I'm going to need you to keep me sane,'

They leaned forward to kiss but as they did so, they were suddenly hit by flying autumn leaves and were interrupted by the sound of children's laughter.

'Isolde! Edward,' called Lucy, laughing as she chased after the both of them, causing them squeal with delight as she caught hold of their collars, 'I thought your mother told you to always stay in sight of the kitchens,'

'We were bored,' chirped Isolde, who was about six and jumped up and down with delight, 'and Edward wanted to see who you were with,'

'Oh did he?' smiled Lucy, kissing Edward on the cheek causing the little boy to blush and wipe Lucy's kiss away, 'oh that's charming Edward,'

'Are you Lucy's husband? asked the little Isolde, going up to Thomas and staring at him, 'my brother's upset, cause he wants to marry Lucy,'

'Does he?' said Thomas, looking over Lucy, who was shaking leaves from her hair and smiling 'well he'll have to hurry up, as we are getting married at Christmas,'

'She mine,' said the little boy, grabbing hold of Lucy's hand, 'Lucy's mine. You can't have her,'

'Oh can't I' laughed Thomas, putting his hands on his hips, 'but I think your find, I saw Lucy first,'

'You saw me first, did you Thomas?' teased Lucy, her bright eyes staring straight into his, 'you can tell you are a lawyer, Mister More,'

Lucy leaned down and whispered something in the boy's ear. The boy nodded his head seriously, before taking a handful of leaves and throwing them at Thomas, knocking off his hat, which Isolde grabbed and threw to Lucy.

'If you want me, Thomas' smiled Lucy, 'you'll have to catch me first,'

Lucy ran off with Thomas' hat, laughing as Thomas chased after her, while little Isolde and Edward continued to throw leaves at them. Finally with both of them laughing, Thomas caught up with Lucy, grabbing her around the waist but as he did so, Lucy stumbled and the two ended up on the ground .

'So you caught me, Thomas,' whispered Lucy, placing her arms around Thomas' neck and letting her eyes fall on his' lips 'I guess I'll have to marry you now, won't I,'

'Yes, I guess you will have to,' said Thomas, before kissing the woman who would soon be his wife.

'Ek!' Their kissing,' laughed Isolde, as Edward continued to throw leaves at them, his little face red with jealousy over Thomas having won Lucy.

'Not interrupting anything important, am I Thomas?' boomed a voice, which cause Lucy and Thomas to break away from their embrace and jump to their feet, as they saw Cardinal Wolsey stood before them.

* * *

'You were meant to be looking after him, Thomas,' said Wolsey harshly, sitting down at the desk in the small study, 'you were meant to be keeping him out of harm's way, not letting him fall down some stone stairs, while you were...well I think I can guess, but just to be clear, where were you at the time?'

'If you must know,' replied Thomas, meeting Wolsey's hard, examining stare, 'I was alone in the chapel, well alone that is, except for God and the Saints above. I had left Harry...His Highness, studying Plato and I can assure you, I have studied Plato many a time, yet it has never caused me to have bruising of the leg,'

'Do not try and be clever, Thomas,' snapped Wolsey, angered that Thomas seemed not to grasp the situation-he had not had the pleasure of facing King, with the news of Henry's accident, 'do you know how much grovelling I had to do before his Majesty, so that you could keep your place at Court? Because I doubt very much that your little seamstress would still want to marry you, if you were just a humble lawyer-and you would be very humble, because I doubt your father would give you much support if you lost your position at Court,'

'Well, I thank your Eminence very much for your troubles on my behalf,' answered Thomas, his voice flat-it was the closes he could manage to being angry and besides, although he disagreed with many of the Cardinal's methods, he knew more than most, how important Wolsey was to the new beginning England would have under Henry-but even Thomas, was hurt by his words, 'and I'm sure _Lucy _does too and I can assure you Eminence , that she would still want to be my wife, even if I was the poorest lawyer in Christendom. I regret with all my heart what happened to his Highness and you and the King are quite correct, I should have been with him and not worshiping God, but His Highness has, thankfully, only suffered bruising...'

'But it could have been much worse, Thomas,' cried Wolsey in frustration, which was more to do with the scene he had just witnessed, than Henry's accident, 'he is the only chance of peace in this land! Our only chance of holding this country together! Do you want a return to dynastic wars, Thomas, because quite frankly, I've always been a little concerned about were your loyalties truly lie!'

Thomas look Wolsey up and down, not believing what he had just heard. Had he just been called a traitor? He knew Wolsey would be angry, anyone would these days after an audience with the King, but to imply that about him-something was not right, though Thomas was not sure what.

'I know my father has represented Yorkish interests in the past,' remarked Thomas, trying to sound as reasonable as he could, 'but as someone who can remember does dark days, I have no interest in seeing this country once again at war with itself. Your Eminence, I am truly sorry for failing in my duty to protect his Highness. I can promise you, it will never happen again...Now if your excuse me,'

Thomas nodded his head and turned to leave, hoping Wolsey would soon regain his senses and see things more clearly.

'Thomas,' called Wolsey, his voice sounding surprisingly weak, as he call Thomas back, 'I know it was not your fault. Forgive me, I am just tired from the long journey,'

Thomas turned and smiled briefly as he hear Wolsey's apology, before once again nodding his head and leaving, shutting the creaky door gently shut. As he heard Thomas' footsteps disappear down the hall, Wolsey collapsed into the chair, running his fingers through his thinning hair.

How had he got it so wrong? He thought once Thomas and that woman had romped, they would simply go their separate ways, the way all sensible lovers do. It all seemed so clear in his mind. But as he had seen the two of them embracing, it was not only clear that they had finally consummated their relationship-the tension between their two bodies had gone, so that they now finding excuses to touch each other... but they were in love!

In love! It was the worst thing that could happen to him... and Thomas. The King, after finding out about Henry's accident, made it clear to Wolsey that he want Thomas More to be got rid of. It took Wolsey, all his political skill, to persuade the King into letting Thomas remain at a court, only to be warned that if Thomas put another foot wrong, not only would he be banished, Wolsey would be joining him! The Prince of Wales tutor and friend, would never be allowed to marry a common seamstress! Thomas and his little Lucy, might be happy, struggling on a basic lawyer's wage but Wolsey was not-he had worked too damn hard, to end up back at the beginning.

He was still waiting to hear some news from his servant, whom he had sent to dig up any dirty he could find on Goodwife Lucy Giggs. Wolsey was now more worried than ever, but there was still one more roll of the dice...or so his informants had told him. Rushing to the door, Wolsey summoned a page.

'Inform the cook, William Fletcher, that I would like a quiet word with him,'


	16. Chapter 16

(Thanks so much for all the great reviews. I'm afraid Wolsey isn't going to come out of this too well, but he will redeem himself in the end. Have taken Thomas More out of character slightly for the next two chapters, but it will make sense when things start to go wrong. Hope everyone enjoys the chapter. The song Lucy sings at the start is Sweet William's Ghost by Kate Rusby and it would have existed in some form back when story is set-I own nothing.)

'_There came a ghost to Margaret's door  
With many a grievous groan  
And aye he's turled long at the pin  
But answer she gave none  
Is it my father Phillip?  
Or yet my brother John?  
Or yet my own dear William  
From Scotland now come home?._'

Lucy sang to herself, as she piled her still damp hair on top her head, pinning it place before continuing to wash her body with warm, lavender tinted water. She was all alone in her lodgings, Joan having gone to meet William before the start of the evening festivities, so she had no worries about slipping off her skirts and corset and wrapping a simply white sheet around her. It make no difference to her being completely alone, she still felt the need to cover her pale body. She never saw herself naked, let alone anyone else-not even Thomas, for on the nights they had shared together, their bodies had always remained covered, either by shifts or by their clothes. As she sat down on the bed, she lifted up her leg, running a ball of fabric, wet with the hot, lavender water up and down her thigh, trying not to let her thoughts wonder on to certain things. Several nights had passed since they had laid together and whilst Lucy did not want to be though wanton, the heat from the water made her body long for Thomas' gentle caresses.

'_Tis not thy father Philip,_

_Nor yet thy brother John;_

_But 'tis thy true-love, William,_

_From Scotland new come home._

'Very nice Lucy Lu,'

Lucy jumped, almost knocking the clay bowl, containing the water, off the chair and smashing to the floor, as the cold voice coming from behind her, sent shivers up and down her spine. She has thought she was alone, but as she turned round, she saw William standing in the door way, licking his lips as his eyes studied Lucy's bare flesh.

'William!' she gasped, trying to grab a blanket from the bed cover her even more, 'what are you doing here? Joan's gone to wait for you by the barn,'

William continued to laugh as he came further into the bedroom, shaking his head from side to side, as he sat down on bed, causing the old wooden frame to creak. Lucy, trying not to let go of the sheet, wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and quickly moved towards the window, hoping to catch sight of Thomas.

'Come now, Lucy Lu,' he sighed with a lazy smile, 'you know it's you, I really want,'

'Well I don't want you!' shouted Lucy, trying to wave a fist in anger, but finding that she almost dropped the sheet, 'get out of my rooms!'

'Even when you're angry, you look like angel,' continued William, looking Lucy up and down, still seeing the curves of her body through the thin sheet and blanket, 'that must be why that little monk is always hang round you, like a little puppy dog. Bet he spends his night, picturing taking off you halo-among other things, of course,'

'I'd rather have him touching me, than have you even look at me!' Lucy replied glaring at William, her blue eyes darkening with anger at she stared straight at him. He was just like John, thinking he could just barge into the room and have her, 'now I won't tell you again-get out of my rooms!'

William just smiled and got to his feet, but didn't head towards the door, just continued pacing up and down the bedroom, as if waiting for something.

'Joan tells me, that you and he are getting married,' laughed William, still not believing Joan's words, nor the words he had had with the Cardinal the other evening, which had, in William's mind, given him his blessing to do the one thing, he had been want to do to Lucy since the moment he first laid eyes on her, 'come on Lucy Lu, you don't really think the likes of him really want to marry you. He'll never see you as being the same as him. No, he just likes the idea of being a bit of rough and tumble, except...'

He paused, as he watched Lucy, who was slowly trying to edge towards the door, whilst not letting any of her covers fall. Still laughing, William reach out and grabbed hold of her arm, pinning her against the wall.

'Get your hands off of me!' shouted Lucy, who was starting to feel her stomach tighten, along with William grip on her. It was the way John always was with her, when they were fighting and from that point, things would only get nastier, 'you bastard! If you don't get your filthy hands off me this instant, I will scream so loud that the Pope in Rome will hear!'

'Will you, Lucy Lu?' mutter William, moving his body so that it was now pressed up against Lucy's, who was still trying to wriggle free from his grasp, 'now come on, my Lucy Lu, don't fight this. You know this is what you need,'

As he spoke, William took one of his hands away from Lucy's arms and placed it on the side of her leg, pushing back the sheet as he moved his hand further up the inside of her thigh. Lucy felt her body tighten and her stomach turn as William stroke her thigh, just above her opening and his manhood hardening under his breeches-she need to get out of here.

'God, your thighs are warm and soft,' groaned William, 'not like...'

But just then, they heard sound of the downstairs' door swing open, taking William, ( he had been told to expect a visitor-though he was hoping to have been between Lucy's thighs by then), unaware. As William lost his strand of thought, he loosened his grip on Lucy, who managed to wriggle her way free and make a dash for the door, not caring who saw her in a state of undress.

'Ow! Get back here, Lucy Lu!' shouted William, grabbing hold of her wrist as she ran towards the door, but with her free hand, Lucy manage to reach the jug of hot water, which she'd put by the bowl on the chair, and turning back to face William, she cracked it over his head.

'You little bitch!' screeched William, as blood started pouring from his forehead, but Lucy did not look back as she fled out of the bedroom door and running as fast as she could without tripping or dropping the sheets, down the corridor.

'Thomas,' she cried as she met on him on the staircase. He looked at her in shock, surprised not just at seeing Lucy in state of undress, but by the look of fear on her usually bright, strong face.

'Lucy! What...'started Thomas, as Lucy fell against him and started to cry, as she buried her head against into his chest. He put his arms around her, not sure what on earth had happen to Lucy, who was usually so strong, but as William appeared at the top of the stairs, dripping with blood and water, Thomas could easily guess what had almost happened to his wife-to-be, who was shaking in his arms.

* * *

'So she attacked him with clay jug,' said Wolsey, flatly staring across the desk at Thomas, whose face suddenly turn surprising dark as Wolsey spoke, 'some would say that it is he who is the injured party in this?'

'Because he has the scars and Lucy does not,' replied Thomas, his voice sounding bitter as he could not understand how Wolsey was seeming to defend William, 'you did not see the state she was in-she was scared out wits!,'

When he had left Lucy with Tasmin, Isolde and Edward's mother, as Joan was nowhere to be found. She had stop crying, but was still pale and her body still trembling. He had not want to leave her, for despite Lucy instance that she was fine, he could clearly see that she was not-Lucy never cried lightly.

'Oh Thomas,' smiled Wolsey, trying to believe the words he was speaking, as having to defend William was making his stomach turn, 'you have sisters, so you must be well aware that crying is a woman's main weapon against us men,'

'You know as well as I, that Lucy is not like that,' snapped Thomas, himself surprised at his tone, 'was it not you who told me how feisty she was? How she refused to leave your office until you had promise to help her after her husband's death! Hardly the actions of a woman, who cries at the slightest thing!'

Wolsey stared at Thomas, not just surprised by the hard expression on his usually mild friend's face but also the fact that he started to fill bile rise in his throat. This was not suppose to happen. In his mind, William would have brought Lucy around to his way of thinking and Thomas would have walked in on then, thus Lucy would lose her halo and Thomas would finally see, that this little seamstress was not for him. He had expressly told William not to hurt either Lucy or Thomas-for as much as he wanted Lucy to fall from grace, he had not expected her to be put in any danger.

'Thomas,' sighed Wolsey, sitting back in his chair, 'you know how difficult this area of the law is and nothing is helped by the fact that your little friend decided to attack him,'

'Lucy did not attack him! She was trying to get away, she was scared!'

'Thomas, this is not my problem!' replied Wolsey, surprisingly bitter, but it was at his own failing, rather than at Thomas, 'she is your mistress, you should have been protecting her!...sorry, your intended,'

Thomas had always defended Cardinal Wolsey, whenever remarks were made about his works being solely for his own personal gain, even if Thomas sometimes had his own doubts. He never voiced them, as he felt loyalty to the man who had given him this place in the world, but now, he was feeling uncertain. Wolsey was not cruel man, so why was he almost defending William's attack on Lucy?

'As you have point out on many occasion, I am only human, it is not possible for me to be in two places at once,' said Thomas, staring Wolsey straight in the eyes, as a though struck him. What if Wolsey was not being cruel, for the sake of it, but because the woman in question was Lucy? 'would you be a lot more willing to act, if the woman in question was not Lucy?'

Wolsey bite his lip. Thomas was not a fool and Wolsey had hardly made a secret that he disapproved of his choice of bride -always referring to her as Thomas' _little seamstress_ or his' _little friend_.

'Thomas,' smiled Wolsey, trying to hide any nerves, 'we have been friends for a long time now and as your friend, I do not wish to see you get hurt. Goodwife Giggs, Lucy, is a good sort of girl. She's feisty, sweet and sure fun to be with, but she's not the kind of girl, men of Court marry. Search your mind Thomas, in ten years from now, when the Prince is King, can you honestly see Lucy at Court talking with the King of France,'

'But Lucy is not marrying the King of France,' replied Thomas, getting to his feet with the feeling that tonight would end with him having to write a certain letter and say goodbye to Henry, 'Lucy will be my wife. I do not care what others think, never have. My heart and conscious know what is right and true...'

* * *

'Thomas,' sighed Lucy, going over to where he was stood, standing over the desk, in his rooms in Dogmersfield manor and placing her arms around his waist, resting her head against his shoulder, 'don't ruin your life, not over me,'

'Lucy,' answered Thomas, turning round, so that they were now standing face to face and to Lucy's surprise she saw he had a smile on his face, 'I never wanted a life at court. Harry is the only reason I stay...'

'And your father,' finished Lucy, letting go of Thomas and walking over to the window. Outside the rest of the servants and those that worked on the land, where getting ready for the harvest festival. She saw them all, putting the finished touches to the decorations of thanks giving and had been looking forward to it, but now, Lucy did not feel like enjoying herself, 'do you think he will let us marry, when he finds out you have chosen me, a woman with the only thing in her dowry being a small house with a leaky roof, over a life in power,'

'My father is not heartless,' replied Thomas, slightly hurt, thought at that moment, he had to push a brief memory of a childhood scolding to the back of his mind, as he came over to join Lucy by the window, 'he gave me his blessing and besides I'm sure you could bring him round,'

'Your father, will probably think I'm some jumped up little madam, who has brought his eldest son to a life of poverty,' laughed Lucy briefly, as she placed her arms round Thomas neck and kissed him on the lips, 'but you do understand that this is going to be a struggle. Having to watch every coin, so that come the end of the month, you can pay all the bills,'

'Lucy,' smiled Thomas, 'I have not spent my life in an ivory tower. I survived at Oxford on barely anything,'

'Yes,' said Lucy, kissing him once again on the lips, before walking away , 'but back then Master More you didn't have a wife and ...,'

'And,' interrupted Thomas, as he reached out and took hold of Lucy hand, pulling her back to him, 'you were going to say children, weren't you?'

'No,' answered Lucy, trying to remain serious but she could not stop the smile on her lips. She had always wanted more children, but when Georgie died, she had come round to the belief that he would be her one and only baby. She would always love Georgie, whatever happened, he would always be her first born and her special boy but this time, thing would be different. Not only would she have a husband by her side, her children would have father, 'well, yes,'

'So how many are we having?' grinned Thomas, as he placed a hand on the side of her face and gently stroked her cheek with his thumb.

'Well,' whispered Lucy, her lips brushing up against Thomas', 'after our talk the other night, it will have to be a fair few,'

They kissed, both responding with equal passion as they forgot all about the troubles of the day and looked forward to planning the rest of their lives together.

'Twenty,' answered Thomas, as the broke away for each other, 'we will have twenty children,'

'Twenty,' gasped Lucy, almost choking as she spoke, 'Thomas be serious,'

'I am,' smiled Thomas, who had done the maths in his head and twenty seemed a practical number, considering this marriage was going to be built on love, rather than duty, 'Thomas Aquinas...'

'Yes, but you and Thomas Aquinas will not be carrying these twenty children!' said Lucy, with a raised eyebrow, as she could already feel her ankles swell, 'and after I have these twenty children, Master More, when my body as aged, will you still love me then?'

'Lucy,' replied Thomas, seriously, not believing that she had to every ask, 'I swear on the Bible, if you want me to,'

'You make me weak, Thomas,' sighed Lucy, shaking her head briefly from side to side, 'so twenty it will be. So that's ten boys and ten girls. Five names girls and boys for me to choose and the same for you. Well, I want Margaret, after my mother,'

'Margaret. A good pious and virtuous name,' agreed Thomas, nodding his head in agreement, 'and for your other choices Lucy More?'

Lucy smiled as she heard, what in a few months time would be her new name. She said it to herself a few time in her head-Lucy More had a very nice ring to it.

'Well, Mary, of course, Cecily as it pretty, Anne after my aunt and Katherine. And for my five boys, Geoffrey after my father and then John, after yours-there's going to be an argument at the font, I just know it,' Lucy laughed, before walking away and sitting down on the bed, 'then Thomas. Followed by Anthony and finally Arthur. Now it's your turn,'

'Elizabeth after my sister, as a peace offering. So that also means the same gesture for Johanna. Eleanor and Matilda,' said Thomas, as he sat down, next to Lucy and took hold of her hand, 'and Lucilla after their wonderful mother and my loving wife,'

'As long as my husband always does what he's told,' said Lucy as with her other hand she picked a lose thread off Thomas' doublet, 'Thomas, I think you need to speak with your father first. I think we both do. I don't care if I'm the wife of courtier or a lawyer. Heck I'd marry you, whatever. We can always live in my house, though I'm not sure how we'd get twenty children in one bedroom. But it's no fun having to struggle. Thomas, promise me you won't do anything, till I return home and we can both talk to your father,'

As Lucy spoke, she took Thomas' right hand and placed it just below her chest, as close to her heart as she could.

'Promise me, Thomas,'

'I promise,' smiled Thomas, leaning forward and kissing Lucy gently on the lips, but as he pulled back, for the first time that evening he saw what Lucy was wearing. Her dress was not only the colours of browns and gold, which looked beautiful against her blonde hair, but unlike her other dresses, this one hanged off the tips of her shoulders, revealing the base of her elegant neck and the round tops of her breasts, 'Lucy your dress!'

'I know,' replied Lucy, shifting uncomfortable as she was not use to showing this much flesh, especially after what had happened earlier in the evening, 'but Tasmin made it for me and made me promise I'd wear it tonight,'

'Lucy,' started Thomas, as he bite his bottom lip, while his heart filled with the longing that only love could bring. It had been several nights, since they had last been together and for both of them, those nights alone had been torture and heavy with loneliness. But while Thomas cursed himself for letting temptation take him, he too realised his wants, were not the wants of pleasure, they were the need to be at one with Lucy and show her love, 'you too make me weak,'

Slowly as if slightly scared, Thomas leaned forward to kiss her, putting a hand carefully on the bare skin of Lucy's shoulder as their lips met. The suppression of temptation over the last few nights, then overcame the two of them, as their mouths hungrily attacked each other, whilst their hands did something they had never done before-their fingers wandered around the fastenings of each other's clothes, as if their warm bodies already knew that tonight they longed to be free of them.

'I hate you sometimes,' gasped Lucy, as her lips broke away from Thomas', only for them to very quickly return, as she moved herself on to his lap, before unbutton his doublet and pulling it off of him, 'I promised myself I would never go weak over a man,'

'Well my love for you has me so confused,' whispered Thomas, as they broke away, but he placed a hand gently on the back of Lucy's head bringing them both together, so their noses were touching. As Thomas spoke, he let the fingers of his other hand, tentatively loosen the ribbons of Lucy's dress and part the fabric, so that the dress started to creep down Lucy's shoulders, ' all those things. Things , which I have spent endless nights of torture, thinking them wrong and wicked, are anything but with you...they are perfect, it's as if...it's as if with you, they become pure ,'

Thomas leant into kiss Lucy, but she moved away, smiling. She then got off of his lap and went over to the chamber door. Her hands slightly shaking, she turned the key in the lock, thus bolting the both on them in the room, before going over to the windows and closing the shutters against the noise of the party outside. All the while Thomas watched her with a puzzled smile.

'Lucy?' he asked, getting to his feet and going over to her, taking hold of both of her hands.

'I think,' Lucy replied, looking at Thomas from under her eyelids as she placed both his hands on her dress and guided his fingers, in freeing her from the fabric, 'I think we should stay here tonight. Just me and you,'


	17. Chapter 17

(Thanks for the reviews. Am a bit unsure about this chapter but hope you all in enjoy)

Thomas smiled as he read Lucy's words, his eyes studying every letter, as it was clear it taken great effort on her part, to put those words onto paper. She was still finding writing a hard process, but he could see by the strokes of her letters that she was getting better. It was a shame, he thought, glancing briefly at the letter again, as he looked too at Henry's Greek translation, that Lucy had not had a chance at schooling. She was just as clever as he-perhaps even more so in my ways, because, no matter what worries he suffered, Lucy always found the words to bring him comfort.

It had been just over a month, since they had last seen each other. They had been forced to bide a hasty goodbye, as Wolsey was forced him and Henry to make a quick exit from the Infanta Catalina and Dogmersfield. Thomas had thought on Lucy as they journeyed home, realising that next time they would meet, it would be only a few more weeks until their wedding-but he quickly changed his thoughts, when Henry had 'innocently' asked why Thomas and Lucy had not gone to the party the night before.

They had made love, like that had done on other occasions since they had arrived in Hampshire but that night had been different. They had torn frantically at each other's clothes, ripping them as they did so-the memory of which quickly flashed through Thomas' mind, as he looked down at the cuff of his shirt that Lucy had quickly stitch back in place the next morning. They had no longer been timid, they had let passion completely overrule any senses. It had felt so natural at the time and in the moments after, when Lucy had laid his arms among the tangled sheets. Laying there Thomas could still feel the kisses, which her lips had covered his chest with and her long hair brushing up against his skin, but most of all, he could still feel the heat of her naked body moving in rhythm against his. It was as if, this was their last time but neither wanted to be parted from the other.

Slowly, stroking the warm flesh of her shoulder, Thomas had stared into the darkness and let his mind wander. He should be feeling guilty. He should be dressed and running to the church, throwing himself on the altar as he begged God and all the Saints above for forgiveness- and yet he remain in bed, with Lucy in his arms. It was not that he did not feel guilt, he and Lucy had committed something, which was reserved for marriage bed, though that was smoothed by the fact she would soon be his wife. Yet it was a struggle to find pain at him once again having enjoyed what was a crime against God...But then again, was it? It was done out of an act of love and was not love, one of the purest of God's creations?

'Thomas,' whispered Lucy, bringing him out of his thoughts. He had though she was asleep but Lucy knew better than to let herself fall drift away-she knew Thomas would be torturing himself. As she spoke, she sat up in bed, leaning over him and placing a hand gently on the side of his face so that he was now looking at her.

'Do you think, Lucy,' said Thomas carefully, taking hold of her hand as he did so, 'do you think, that I think too much?'

There was silence for a moment, before Lucy threw herself back on the bed laughing, tossing and turning frantically as she shrieked with mirth.

'Lucy?'

'I'm sorry, Thomas,' answered Lucy, collecting herself as she propped her head up on the pillow, 'of course you do...'

She paused, reaching for Thomas' hand, holding it, before bringing it to her lips and gentle kissing it.

'...and that's why I love you, even if I do worry that you will one day you will send yourself mad!'

There was silence once again between them, as Thomas thought on her reply. She was the only person he had ever met, who said this was a quality she loved in him-it drove the others around him wild. His mother, when he was still a child and still leaning words, would constantly roll her eyes, as her son questioned the answer she had given him, to the first question he had asked her.

'Do you not wish that I was like other men?' Thomas finally said, turning to look as Lucy, seeing her through the misty light of the last remaining candles. Generally it did not worry him that he could be so different, but he could not help to think that life would be simpler if he was like the other men he knew-then again, you did not get to Heaven on a feathered bed.

'I would never want you any other way,' answered Lucy, her voice sounding shocked by his question.

'I must drive you mad,' replied Thomas, feeling a bit more at ease as he laid back down on the bed, resting his head on the pillow and looking over at Lucy, 'do you not want it, so that...that we share together, I do not trouble you with my feelings of guilt?'

'But most men would think I'm a whore, for letting us make love,' smiled Lucy, turning her head to the side so that she and Thomas were looking straight at each other. As she spoke, she gently placed a hand on the side of his face, 'but you don't. You don't even think it's my fault. You think you've made me fallen, you don't lay the blame on me. I don't want you to change, all I want sometimes is for you to remember that we're flesh and blood,'

'But we are only flesh and body for a short time, Lucy,' said Thomas, placing a hand on her hip and smiling as he saw her bright eyes through the failing light, 'when...'

But Lucy did not let him finish. Instead, she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips, only gently at first but soon with much stronger fervour, as she felt Thomas' mouth passionately respond as he wrapped his arms round her.

'Then we will have the whole of eternity together, won't we,' whispered Lucy, taking her lips away from Thomas' but so they were almost still touching, 'merry in Heaven,'

'I use to think that what we have just done was one of the most evil sins, Satan can temp us into committing,' replied Thomas, as he took a hand away from Lucy's waist and let it play with a strand of her long hair, 'but it never feels wrong, instead it feels only pure...then though I worry that it should be plagued with guilt,'

'Shhh,' smiled Lucy, as she placed a finger of top of his lips, 'you are thinking too much,'

They kissed again, slowly and deeply, as Lucy pulled the sheet over them and...

'Anything of importance, Thomas?' asked Wolsey, as he came into the room. Things had changed slightly in their relationship since the argument over William's treatment of Lucy. It had become strained at the edges, leaving Thomas always a bit on edge when they were together.

'Nothing of great importance to anyone but me,' replied Thomas, putting Lucy's letter in his pocket, before reading Henry's Greek with a critical eye and was happy to find only one mistake, 'I'm afraid the Prince has gone to lunch with the King,'

'I know,' smiled Wolsey, sitting down at the opposite side of the desk, 'it is you with whom I wished to speak. I have decided to make peace with you marriage to your little seamstress,'

Thomas looked up from Henry's work and stared Wolsey straight in the eyes. His face seemed genuine but Thomas had leant from experience, that the look in his friend's eyes was anything but.

'Good,' muttered Thomas, 'but can you start by calling her Lucy. It is the name her parents gave her at her baptism,'

'Are you sure she was Baptist, Thomas?' remarked Wolsey, in a rather disinterested way, as if it was just a passing thought-not words which he had rehearsed, 'I mean you can never be too sure, when someone is from such a low background,'

'I would have thought,' answered Thomas, not really wanting to be cruel as he hated arguments, 'you would be more kind to Lucy, given that you and she share some of the same cruelties of this life,'

'Except I did not get where I am today, by opening my legs,' thought Wolsey, the words on the very tip of his tongue but he decided against speaking them. He was hoping this little chat would help Thomas see the foolishness of marrying a girl, who could offer nothing accept herself.

'Thomas,' smiled Wolsey, his voice kind. Despite what people thought of his motives, he was truly concerned for his friend, not wanting him throw his talents away for the sake of a pretty smile to wake up next to in the mornings. Besides, surely it was best for Thomas to end this foolishness by his own accorded, rather than having his heart broken by his father, when it was announced he was to marry that Colt girl instead, 'I know your annoyed with me but I beg you to listen to reason. I am slightly older than you, I know more about life than you, so with that in mind, please answer me this. I can see what Goodwife Giggs would get out of having you for a husband. A nice warm house, good food, clean water, pretty clothes and a husband, who will look after her every need and want, but what do you get in return, Thomas? Other than the oblivious, of course,'

Inside, Thomas crossed himself and said a silent prayer. Wolsey, somehow, seemed to know the almost every intimate physical detail of his and Lucy's relationship. His comments since they had meet up in Hampshire made it clear, he knew what had taken place behind locked doors, but Thomas, while he felt uncomfortable with Wolsey's knowledge, did not feel ashamed. He and Lucy knew the truth of what passed between them and no one else but them, knew the secrets of their hearts.

'The most oblivious being that I love her,' said Thomas, getting to his feet, ' that she listens to me, she does not just dismiss me,'

There was a lot more Thomas wanted to say but decided against letting Wolsey into the secrets of his feelings. He was tired of having this debate with a man, who he called his friend. Instead he went over to the bookshelf and pulled out the first book on that his hand rested on.

'You are not going to listen to me, are you Thomas?'

'It is not a case of me closing my ears against you,' answered Thomas, shaking his head from side to side as he sat down, 'it's you whose closed yours against me. Why can you not accept my marriage?'

'Because Thomas!' snapped Wolsey, getting to his feet. Why would Thomas never listen to reason? Why must he always be so good damn perfect in his ideas? Life with his little seamstress, might be fun and sweet, but what good would that be if you never allowed once again near the seat of power! But Wolsey was running out of ideas and felt he could no longer rely of Sir John for support, because he knew, despite his always being harsh on his son, Thomas had always been his favourite child and he was not going to break his beloved boy's heart, 'men do not marry their horses! However good a ride they are!'

Thomas went to reply, trying to control himself after hearing Wolsey's attack but before he could, Wolsey had left, slamming the door with such force that the bang echoed around the chamber.

Sighing, Thomas once again took out Lucy's letter and re-reading her words, slowly managing to forget all which had just passed. In a few days, Lucy would be back in London, then they could speak with his father and then finish planning the rest of their future together.

* * *

'Oh God!' groaned Lucy, as she staggered out of bed and stumbled as fast as she could over to the chamber pot, collapsing before it, as she threw her head over it. Her beautiful blonde hair fell around her bent head, causing the vile smelling sick to get entangled in her locks. It had been the same every morning for the past few days. Lucy would wake up and immediately be hit by weakness and nausea, so bad that even the thought of food and drink would make her turn green. It would get slightly better as the day would wear on, but she still felt so weak and everyday tasks seemed a struggle and today, she need to be fit and well. She and Joan were travelling back to London that afternoon and she need to well enough to travel home and see Thomas. It was the 1st December and it had been just over a month since they had last seen each other. They had exchanged letters but it was not the same and Lucy desperately needed to see him, even if it meant having to travel with the chamber pot on her lap.

'Jesus Lucy!' cried Joan, running into the chamber and was shocked to see her best friend slumped against the wall, a chamber pot on her lap with sick stains over her nightdress, 'what the hell is wrong?'

Lucy tried to speak, only to find that bile had once again gathered in her mouth and she quickly threw her head over the pot, before she was sick over her good friend. How had it come to this? Thought Lucy, as her empty stomach tried to find something else to throw up. How did something pure and prefect, result in (at least for the moment anyway), something so disgusting. It had never been this bad with Georgie.

'Thomas,' Lucy finally managed to groan, as her stomach gave up its search and she once again slumped again the wall.

'Well, he's ain't going to want you in this state,' laughed Joan, kissing her friend on the forehead, before getting up to find a damp cloth and comb.

Lucy smiled as she thought about Joan having to take care of her for once, but she also managed a grin as she knew the reason for her current state.

'I think he will,' whispered Lucy, placing her hands on her flat belly, 'I think he will,'


	18. Chapter 18

(Bar three bits, I have rewritten most of this chapter as I didn't think it worked before. Big thank you to SSLE. I have had to change the month which Lucy and Thomas are planning to get married in to January, instead of December, as John Guy points out in his book A Daughter's Love, ( great book-I highly recommend it) a December wedding was not allowed due to Advent. Hope everyone enjoys this chapter and had a great Christmas)

Thomas was worried about Lucy. The clock had just struck nine and outside the sky was black. She should have been home at dawn that morning but there was still no sign of her. As he continued to write, Thomas tried not to worry- after all there was many reasons why she could be delayed. It was December and the threat of snow was hanging in the air, not to mention how treacherous the roads in that part of the country were this time of year. It had probably been decided that is was best to stay in a tavern on route, rather than risk their lives on the road at night.

He sighed, as he went back to his writing, happy that Lucy was at least safe but as he got to the end of the page, Thomas felt someone tenderly place their hands on his shoulders.

'Lucy!'

'Thomas,' she replied, kissing him on top of the head, before walking over to the edge of the desk and leaning against it, as she was still feeling a little weak from the endless coach ride- along with other things. Thomas looked up at her and smiled, but as he got to his feet to embrace her, he noticed how pale she looked.

'Lucy,' he said concerned, putting an arm around her, 'are you well? You look so fragile,'

'It's good to see you too, Thomas,' smiled Lucy, as Thomas helped her into his chair, 'actually, I've not been too well recently. It's a struggle to walk sometimes and I have not kept my food down for a week but that's only natural in my condition,'

'Lucy,' answered Thomas, full of concern as he kneeled down by the chair and took hold of her hand, kissing it as he did so, 'have you seen a physician?'

Lucy looked at her husband to be and continued to smile as saw the look of concern in his grey eyes. He looked so worried, not understanding her hints to him.

'No,' lingered Lucy, looking down at her stomach, 'but I saw a midwife,'

'A midwife,' said Thomas, still not understand as he was too worried about Lucy state of health, 'but surely if you are ill, Lucy, you need to see a physician? I'm going to fetch Doctor…'

'Thomas, listen,' whispered Lucy, guiding his hand and placing it gently on top of her still fragile stomach, 'I don't need to see a physician. The midwife said sickness was usual given my condition,'

Lucy laughed as she saw Thomas stare in shock at the spot where she had placed his hand. Thomas' mind was racing; was she really telling him, he was going to be a father? That they had, in their moments together, created and been blessed by God with a child? He was going to be a father! A father, after several years of finding himself torn been the Inns of Court and the cloisters, he was going to end the year a husband-to-be with a child on the way.

'Thomas,' said Lucy, softly, hoping his silence was to do with shock, more than panic or fear, 'say you're happy. After all, I didn't get the baby in there by myself,'

'I'm going to be a father,' whispered Thomas, still staring at Lucy flat stomach, not believing the words tumbling from his mouth, 'I'm going to be a father,'

'Well that's what it usually means,' laughed Lucy, feeling slightly more at easy, 'unless you want to change titles,'

'I'm going to be a father!' continued Thomas, a little louder, 'I'm going to be a father!'

Joining in with Lucy's laughter, Thomas grabbed hold of her hands and pulled her carefully to her feet, before putting his arms gently around Lucy's waist and kissing her. They both continued to laugh with happiness, failing to hear the crash that came from Wolsey's office in the next chamber.

* * *

'Lucy!' cried Johanna, jumping up from the dinner table and rushing over to Thomas and Lucy, throwing her arms around Lucy, 'I finished my cross stitch. I've been dying to show you. I did what you told me to do, you will be so proud of me,'

'I'm sure I will,' smiled Lucy, not afraid of the frosty stares being directed at her by Elizabeth and Thomas step-mother, Joan, 'you'll have to show me, before I go,'

'Thomas, Lucy,' grinned John, getting to his feet and pointing to the empty chairs, 'join us. There's plenty of food,'

'Thank you,' replied Thomas, guiding Lucy to a chair before sitting down in the seat next to her and taking hold of her hand, 'is father home?'

'He is in the study as his head is troubling him again,' said Elizabeth flatly, as she passed Lucy some bread, trying not to let her feelings show towards this woman show, 'we did not realise we would have company tonight,'

There was an awkward silence then, broken only by Johanna quickly thinking of something funny, which had happened at the dress makers earlier in the day. When she finished the end of the story, everyone-even Elizabeth managed to laugh-except their step-mother who continued to stare at Lucy, in particular her hand, which was placed on her lap and linked with Thomas', who slowly ran a finger over her stomach.

'You're expecting!' she screamed, jumping to her feet and point a finger at Lucy, then at Thomas, 'you got her pregnant! How could you?'

Once again everything went silent and stopped. They had not planned to announce the news until after the wedding, when Lucy would start showing, but now the news was out, with Elizabeth staring opened mouthed, John trying not to laugh and Johanna smiling, while their step-mother continued to stand there trembling, her face as white as a sheet.

'We were going to tell you,' said Thomas softly, as he held on tighter to Lucy's hand, 'but we wanted to keep the news to ourselves for the time being,'

'You're going to have a baby! I'm so happy! I hope it's a girl!' shrieked Johanna, getting up from her seat in such a hurry that she knocked it over, as she ran over to hug Lucy, 'but wait your not married yet,'

'Sit down, Johanna,' mumbled Elizabeth, still in a state of shock, as she was hearing the one news she thought she would never hear about her oldest brother.

'You!' continued to shouted Joan More, who had never understood her step-children, most of all Thomas, who seemed determined to make the world even more harder for her with his endless books and thoughts, 'you stupid boy! Your father always told me, that you were the sensible one, the one I didn't have to worry about but I always knew, you were the one who would cause the most trouble-I could see it in your eyes. The way you always act as though you better than the rest of us. Your foolish father said its cause you were so clever! Clever! Not so clever, that you couldn't pull out of your tart quick enough to stop her getting pregnant!'

'How dare you!' screamed Lucy, jumping to her feet, knock away Thomas hand as he tried to stop her, 'don't you talk to him like that or me! I'm more of a lady than you!'

'Oh really!' replied Joan More, her face going red, her lips thinning-this family would be death of her, 'I have never had a bastard in my belly!'

'She was lucky than any man ever went near her,' whispered John, to Johanna causing her to once again snigger and feel the weight of Elizabeth's cold stare.

'You nasty mare!' cried Lucy, placing a hand protectively on her belly, 'no wonder you are not much of a mother! How dare you call your grandchild a bastard?'

'Oh I'll do more than that! I'll beat that bastard out of your belly myself!'

'Do not speak to her like that,' said Thomas, quietly but firmly as he slowly got to his feet and took hold of Lucy's hand. If he was honest, he and his stepmother had never got on but he had never argued or answered back, only ever replying to her shouts as if they were having a civil conversation, but now he answered back, 'you have no right,'

'So you've finally found your tongue,' she sneered, as something snapped inside her. She and her husband had only ever married because they realised they could help each other's social ambitions, but now it was about to fall apart, thanks to her stepson and his little tart, 'how could you do this to us! You, who cannot even hold a sword, how did you get this whore with child?'

'Well,' answered Lucy, reaching for the plate of food, fighting the temptation to throw it, 'if you want me to...'

'Thomas! My study this instant,' boomed a voice, which caused the whole scene to freeze and Thomas' heart to skip a beat, as his father summoned him and Lucy, 'bring your friend!'

* * *

'You lied to me, Thomas!' shouted John More, hitting the desk with his fist, causing both Thomas and Lucy to flinch as they stood opposite him, 'you swore there was no way your friend could be with child! But now I'm overhearing-not being told to my face by my eldest son, mind- that soon this house will hear the pitter patter of tiny feet!'

'Forgive me father,' replied Thomas, reaching for Lucy's hand and squeezing it tightly for reassurance, 'but I told you no lie. What I said then was the truth, but my life has changed since then,'

'So I see,' snorted Sir John, throwing himself down in his chair as his head was once again starting to throb and pointed at Lucy's belly, 'I trust you have had the sense to see a midwife?'

'Of course,' answered Lucy, slightly insulted but trying not to lose her temper, 'as soon as I suspected,'

John More sighed and looked at the both of them-this was going to be even harder than he imagined. How could he have been so foolish? Why did it never occur to him that letting his son bed this woman, could result in a bastard forming in her belly? Except to Thomas and his seamstress, the unborn babe was not a bastard. It was going to be legitimate, born on the right side of the marriage bed with two loving parents. Sir John had promised the Colts a wedding-he had signed legal documents to swear that his eldest son would marry their eldest daughter, but now his plan was in ruinings.

'Thomas,' he finally said after a long period of thought, 'could you please leave me and...Sorry dear, what is your name?'

'Lucy,' she replied, eyeing John More suspiciously as there was something in his manner she was not sure off, 'my name is Lucy,'

'Of course. Now Thomas, if you please,'

Thomas did what he always did when his father asked something of him and that was to do as he was told, but this time as he got to the door, he turned round and lingered for a moment longer.

'Father,' he said, making his voice sound stronger, 'sorry but may Lucy be allowed to sit, as the baby is making her fragile,'

'Certainly,' answered John More, pointing at a chair and watching the look that passed between his son and the girl, who was carrying his child-why did it have to be a look of love?, 'now please go, Thomas,'

Thomas, once again exchanged smiles with Lucy, before leaving, closing the door softly behind him. John More took a deep breath and tried to blot out the throbbing pain in his head, as he turned to speak to Lucy, but before he could open his mouth, she interrupted.

'You don't like me, do you,' said Lucy, her voice quiet but strong as she put her hand on her belly, 'you never had any intention of letting me marry Thomas, did you?'

'I...' stuttered John, slightly unnerved by being caught off guard by this woman, 'I have no idea where you came up with that notion, my dear, but you are mistaken,'

'I don't think I am,' replied Lucy, her voice growing stronger, 'if you wanted me to marry your son, you would know my name,'

'You are clever, I'll give you that,' answered back John More, having finally recovered from Lucy outspokenness, 'but you are not what I want for my son and my Thomas will always do what he is told,'

'But I won't. I love Thomas and despite whatever you do or say to him, my Thomas loves me,'

John More stared at her, hoping to wear her down, but her bright blue eyes did not flinch. Instead he found himself almost hypnotised by her blues eyes, before breaking away from her stare-was that how she had seduced his son?

'My son, despite his years,' replied John More, leaning over to the draw in his desk and opening it up, 'is still very naive in certain things. He might think he loves you. He might think he cannot live without you but you know as well as I, what brought him to your bed,'

As he spoke, John More produced a small bag of gold coins and threw them on the desk between them. It was the last trick he had left, hoping that the woman, who he knew his son was deeply in love with, was a fickle as his wife and would take the money and silently go.

'I will find you lodgings in another part of the country, Durham for instance,' he continued, waiting for her to pick up the purse, 'once the baby is born, you will both be well looked after. If it is a boy, his schooling will be paid for or in the case of a girl, then a sizeable dowry will be made for, when the time comes-providing, of course, that you and the child have no contact with my son,'

'Why is it so hard for you to believe that I love your son,' answered Lucy, trying to keep her temper as she did not want Thomas to hear what was said. As much as John More infuriated her, she did not want him to fall from grace in Thomas' eyes, 'I don't won't your bloody money. I've worked at the Palace since I was fifteen, if this was just about money, I would have given into to advance off any numbers of Lords after a bit of rough but I am not that girl. I love your son and I'd marry him, even if you threw him out your house without a penny to his name,'

'You talk a good game,'

'I talk no game. I talk the truth. Why can't you keep your promise to your son and me? Why can't you let us be a family?'

'I think you know why,' sighed John More, not wanting to sound weak but his head was pounding so bad, he thought the pain might cause him to black out, 'I've work hard to given Thomas everything and...'

'I'm not good enough for him, but what I don't know, is why you told him we could marry,' replied Lucy, stare straight at John More causing the pain in his head to spread, 'what I do know is that I love him. He listens to me, he looks after me, and he makes me feel safe. Things that others take for granted, he worries over. And he loves me. He wants me and he wants our child. Thomas will never have a bad word to say about you, but if you deny him this, you will break him!'

John More looked at the woman with the crystal blue eyes, who was carrying his son's child-his grandchild! She was right, it would break Thomas-though he would never admit it, but every time John would look into his son's eyes, he would see the look of hurt staring back at him.

'I'm not a fool,' he answered, continuing to stare at Lucy as he put the purse of money back in his desk, 'I know my son has feelings for you and that you have feelings for him and despite the fact I hate to admit it, I believe, though I cannot understand why, that you are good for him. He does not look scared when he is with you,'

'So you do like me,' smiled Lucy, patting her stomach, 'I have no intention of hurting your son or your family-a family whose newest member I am carrying and who, because I love Thomas, I want to be a part of,'

'You are too confident,' John More replied, realising he, for the first time in his life, he had been beaten, 'I have never liked that in a woman but I am not marrying you. You are carrying my grandchild-just promise me your make sure that baby will be able to advance this family and make up for what I am about to lose,'

* * *

'Lucy will talk father round, won't she, Thomas,' smiled Johanna, sitting down on the window site next to her older brother, 'can I be godmother?'

'Lucy's not even showing yet,' laughed Thomas, trying to suppress the nerves gathering inside him-why did his father want to speak to Lucy? He have already given them his blessing, what else was there to discuss-but now there was a baby on the way, 'but I see no reason why not,'

'I can,' snapped Elizabeth, who was stood in the corner of the chamber with her hands folded across her chest, looking at the brother she loved more than anything in the world with, angry eyes.

'Elizabeth, don't' muttered John, who was sat at the table, pretending to read but was really drawing on the book's pages with a broken pencil. He had been relieved that his stepmother had retired to her chamber and had hoped Elizabeth would do the same, but she remained, along with the disapproving look on her face.

'Someone has to talk some sense around here! Thomas, she is all wrong for you!'

'Do not listen to her, Thomas,' interrupted Johanna, 'she's just jealous that John Rastell has not asked her to marry her yet!'

'Be quiet, silly girl!' shouted Elizabeth, who was not usually one to shout but she felt someone had to speak some sense and show her beloved brother that he was about to make a great mistake, 'I mean what kind of girl, gets herself with child before her wedding!'

'Well I may be a silly girl,' replied Johanna, marching over to her sister with her hands on hips, 'but I know you need help getting that way!'

'Johanna,' cried Thomas, rushing over to his sister and placing an arm round her, 'I need a drink. Could you, please fetch me some water?'

Johanna stopped and looked at her brother, with a small smile and nod of the head, before making her way to the door. As they heard her foot steps on the floor, Thomas turned and looked at his other sister, finding that he could not look her in the eyes.

'If that is really what you think, Elizabeth,' whispered Thomas, walking away from her and returning to the window seat, 'then you do not care for me as much as you claim,'

'Thomas,' cried Elizabeth, running after him and grabbing hold of his arm, trying to stop the tears falling from her eyes at his words, 'see what she does to you? My brother would never be so cruel to me,'

'And I thought my sister would never be so cruel to me,'

Thomas and Elizabeth stood there, looking at each other, both trying to suppress the hurt the other had caused them. They were both so alike, in many ways; everything they ever did was because they thought it for the best or for the best of those around them, never understanding how sometimes it hurt those they loved the most. Suddenly among the silence came a cackle of laughter, which brought both Thomas and Elizabeth out of their thoughts and turned to look at John, who had thrown his head back in laughter.

'John,' asked Elizabeth, with her hands on hips, 'I fail to see what is so funny?'

'It's just,' he laughed, trying to catch his breath, 'it's just, all those times when everyone thought, it would be me who would bring this family into disgrace and it turns out to be Thomas!'

'That's not...,' but before Elizabeth could finish, she noticed that Thomas too had started laughing. Trying to remain serious with disapproving look on her face, Elizabeth soon was also joining in the laughter.

'Thomas! Elizabeth! John!' called their father, as he came back into the room, followed by Lucy, 'what is all this noise! Thomas?'

'Nothing, father,' smiled Thomas, with a nod as he went over and took hold of Lucy's hand, 'how are you feel?'

'Never better,'

'You are looking much better,'

'Thomas, Lucy,' sighed John More, not believing the words he was about to speak, nor how he was going to have to explain the changes of circumstances to Jane's father, 'I am disappointed, in both of you but that being said, no grandchild of mine is going to be born a bastard. So come 14th January, you can both marry-on the condition that I make the arrangements,'

'Thank you, father,' laughed Thomas as he and Lucy embraced, 'thank you,'

'If I may sir,' smiled Lucy, very carefully, 'may I have the Church of St Mary the Virgin?'

'Of course, my dear,' answered John More through gritted teeth, but as he looked at his son and future daughter-in-law, he found his mind suddenly soften. As he saw his son, gently pat his expecting fiancée's belly, even he had to admit that they made a sweet couple and the thing that was missing between Thomas and Jane, was clearly there between him and Lucy-even if she was a little over confident.

'How is your head, father?' asked Elizabeth, slowly coming around to Lucy, as she could not face falling out with her brother.

'It's...' John More started, putting his hand to his temple, but as he did so, he found the pain he had been suffering for weeks had suddenly just disappeared, '...it's gone,'

* * *

It was over. It was all over. Thomas, who had spent the day walking around with a smile on his face, would now have his father's complete blessing for sure. Sir John More was a hard man but he was not cruel and Wolsey knew from conversations they had had, Sir John was not going to see his first grandchild born a bastard. Wolsey sank in his chair. He would have to tell the King. He would have to inform him, that the Prince of Wales' tutor had decided to marry one of the Queen Mother's seamstresses. And Wolsey knew exactly what would follow; the King, having wanted to get rid of Thomas for a long time, would instantly banish him and probably Wolsey too. All his…their grand plans for England would crumble and turn to dust, all because Thomas was innocent…no foolish enough to let himself fall for a girl of no importance.

'Your eminency,' came a familiar voice, as the door to Wolsey chamber creaked open, causing Wolsey to come out of his despairing thoughts. It was the servant he had last seen two months ago, when he had sent this man to dig into the past of Goodwife Giggs, 'I have returned,'

Wolsey almost jumped to his feet and crossed himself as he saw the man, who disappearance had caused him many sleepless nights. He had been thinking of having this man thrown in the nearest dungeon, but now seeing him, Wolsey was thinking that maybe this man was a Saint sent from God.

'Come and sit,' beckoned Wolsey, so enthusiastically, that before his servant had a chance to sit, he was command to tell him everything, 'what have you found on the angelic Goodwife Giggs. I prayer that she has some secret in her past,'

'Nothing,'

'Nothing,' barked Wolsey, losing his temper as he hit the desk, knocking the ink over, causing it to drip off the edge the oak desk, 'you are tell me, that you have wasted almost two months and my money on nothing!'

'Well nothing in regards to the lady,' smiled the servant, not troubled by his employer change of tone, 'besides a long standing dispute with a neighbour over a damaged drain, she is spotless. Pays her bills on time, attends church regularly, hardworking, clean and tidy, never seen in the accompany of men-well, until recently but…'

'But!'

'But John Giggs is another story,' replied the servant, reaching into his pocket and producing several folded pieces of paper, 'no one, not even his own mother had a nice would to say about him. They were all glad to see him dead, except he didn't die on the field of France like they all believe,'

Without saying anymore, the servant handed Wolsey the papers, which he snatched out of his hand and quickly read the first page. He then reread it and reread it, before crossing himself and giving thanks to Heaven for the information he now had in his hand.

'That's why it has taken so long. I had to get my connections in France to check my sources,'

'So poor Widow Giggs' dead husband is actually living in Paris with a whore called Yvette,' laughed Wolsey, not believing his change of fortune-Thomas could not marry her now, 'god bless sweet Yvette,'

'Well,' shifted the messenger, now slightly unnerved as he would had to crush his employer's jubilant mood, 'not exactly your eminency. Read the second page,'

Wolsey looked at the man suspiciously as he put down the top paper and looked at the letters on the second. He read this piece slowly, as he felt his hopes crash around him. John Giggs had died of the plague last January, long before Thomas had met his seamstress, who he could still marry with a clear conscience….but then Wolsey was the one with all the facts, whilst Thomas and his little friend were still in ignorance.

Unlocking the secret compartment of his desk, Wolsey told himself it was not cruel, what he was doing; it was for the sake of England. Goodwife Giggs and her bastard would be well cared for and Thomas could marry that Jane creature and continue in Royal service, helping the Prince become a great King-it would all be for the best.

'If you do not want to spend the rest of your days in the Tower,' said Wolsey sternly, his eyes narrowing at the messenger, as he placed the second letter into the secret draw, before quickly closing it and locking it tight, 'this second piece of paper never existed,'

* * *

Wrapping his cloak tight around him, Thomas sat down on the roof top and stared up at the stars. He was going to be a father. By next Christmas, he and Lucy would be a little family of three. It had started snowing again, but it was not the icy flakes which caused the goose bumps, he felt appear on his arms under his doublet, it was the thought of the innocent baby now growing in Lucy's belly.

Was he scared about being a father? Of course. After all, soon there would be someone in this world, who would be totally dependent on him until the day he died-even Lucy, despite her confident smile, must be scared at the prospect –but then she had done it all before.

He looked down at his cold hands and stretched out his fingers, staring down at them as his mind worked. It must have been that first night in the inn, or the time in front of the fireplace, or those times in his chamber when they should have gone to the party-or maybe in that afternoon on his cloak amid the trees. It always felt so pure and right with Lucy and now because of those moments they would have a child...who would be born almost two months early. He could see the looks on people's faces, as they looked at the baby conceived before Lucy had a ring on her finger. Father's were meant to protect his children, but he had failed at the first hurdle-he had not been able to control himself, so now his eldest would be tainted with curse of being created in an unblessed bed.

'Thomas?'

Thomas turned round and saw Lucy's head popping up through the hatch. She looked so beautiful, thought Thomas, briefly forgetting his thoughts as he saw her blue eyes and the snowflakes entwined in her lose blonde hair.

'You should be in bed,' smiled Thomas, rushing over to her and helping her on to the roof, 'we cannot have you getting ill,'

'And I can't have you getting ill too, Thomas,' replied Lucy, resting her head on his shoulder, 'nor can I have you driving yourself mad,'

'Lucy?'

'I know you, Thomas,' laughed Lucy, as she felt Thomas place his cloak around her shoulders, 'you think you've failed as a father, before you've even begun but Thomas it will be born on the right side of the bed, with you and me to look after him or her,'

'It's a girl,' smiled Thomas, gently placing a hand on Lucy's belly, 'I have a feeling. A beautiful, clever girl, just like her mother,'

'I don't know about clever or beautiful but I know there's every chance its could be a boy, whose just as handsome and frustrating as his father,'

'Well it is a girl and she will be just as clever as her mother,'

'I know what you're thinking, Thomas,' whispered Lucy, putting her arms around his neck and enjoying the warmth of feeling him so close to her again, 'I'm not saying I'm happy with gossips pointing at my swollen belly as I walk down the aisle and Lord knows what my father will say when he finds out, but what's done is done. It will not be a bastard when its born, it will have your name and more importantly, it will have both of us to love and protect them...you are too well brought up, Master More, that's your problem. Most men would see this as something to brag about,'

'Well,' smiled Thomas, slowly putting his hands, loosely around Lucy's waist-as he did not want to hurt the baby, 'I'm not most men,'

'I know,' replied Lucy, placing a hand on the side of Thomas face and gently kissing him on the lips, 'te amo,'

'te amo'


	19. Chapter 19

(First of all, I'm really sorry but I have rewritten chapter 18, to include the scene where Thomas and Lucy have to face the wrath of Thomas' father. It was meant for this chapter, but I thought it fitted in more with the last. Big thank you to SSLE and MrsPhantomSylvia for all your advice. Hope everyone enjoys this chapter)

'Morning,' smiled John, as he walked into the room, where Thomas was already sat, eating breakfast, 'where's Lucy?

'She's feeling a little under the weather,' sighed Thomas, who had left Lucy in the spare chamber, her head bent over the chamber pot as she cursed him for getting her into that state, 'I told her, I'll be up to see her in a little while,'

'Good,' replied John, reaching for the ham and bread, which was on the table. Unlike his brother, who would hardly eat a thing and was now just sat there, picking at slice of bread, John was always hungry-one of the many things which made the two brothers so different, 'Thomas, can I ask something of you?'

'Of course,'

'As you are marrying Lucy,' started John, looking at the mound of food on his plate and deciding what to attack first, 'do you think you could speak with father about the possibility of me marrying Jane. Unless of course you object,'

'I have no objections,' laughed Thomas, who had noticed that despite Lucy sometimes driving him to the brink of madness, she always managed to smooth his troubles away and make everything seem so pure-unlike Jane, whom no matter what he said or did, always ended up on the brink of tears. And besides, there was no love between them, 'but I think it would be for the best, if you spoke to father,'

John looked up at his brother and gave a small smile, before dropping it again. Poor Thomas could be so naive sometimes, thought John, father will never listen to me. Sometimes John wondered if their father even remembered that he had a second son. Every since he was a little boy, him and his father were always arguing, with his father always shouting to him that why could he not be more like Thomas. John knew Thomas had not had it easy, he too had been scowled by their father on many occasions, but whereas Thomas would just be quiet and obey, John would always argue back. He also had a notion, that if he had been him, who had brought a girl home and admitted to getting her in the family way, his father would not be quite so accommodating-if fact, thought John, he would not live long enough to see the child born.

'You know he never listens to me, Thomas,'

'Now that is not true, John,' smiled Thomas, as John fought the urge to bang his head against the table-why did Thomas never seem to understand, 'but if it makes you feel better, I will come with you,'

'I hate you Thomas More,' groaned Lucy, coming into the room, looking almost green from her morning sickness, 'I wish you had slept in the chair that night! By the Virgin, it is hot in here!'

'Lucy!'

'Don't look at me like that Thomas,' sighed Lucy, going over to the window and opening it, letting in the snow tinted wind, 'John knows very well how you got me looking as green as that apple,'

Thomas' gave a small laugh and got to his feet, walking over to where Lucy was stood, resting her head against the wooden frame. He placed an arm round her waist, ignoring the small laugh that came from his brother and placed his other hand gently on Lucy's belly.

'Our daughter still causing you trouble,' he whispered, taking his hand briefly away from her belly and pushing a strain of Lucy's hair behind her ear, 'maybe you should see a physician,'

'And he'll tell you, what I've been telling you since we woke up, it's perfectly natural,' she smiled briefly, as she let her head fall against Thomas' shoulder, 'I just hate feeling so helpless,'

'Well I do not think anyone can accuse you of that,' laughed Thomas, guiding Lucy to a chair at the table, 'if you can keep a glass of water down, I promise I won't send for a physician,'

Lucy did what she was told and slowly drunk the mug of clear, cold water Thomas handed to her and found that her head gradually stopped spinning, though her stomach still churned.

'You do know Thomas, that it will get worse before it gets better. You wait till I'm as big as a house,' she smiled, looking up at Thomas, 'at least I can shout at you now, instead of Joan,'

Thomas' laughed and kissed Lucy on the cheek, slightly uneasy as he felt John's eyes on them.

'Who would have thought it,' laughed John, through a mouthful of bread and cheese, 'my sensible older brother...'

'John,' said his father, coming into room, causing both of the brothers and Lucy to get to their feet, 'isn't a little too earlier in the morning for your comments. Thomas, I trust it was not your voice I heard coming from Lucy chamber at the crack of dawn?'

Sir John sat down at the head of the table and nodded for the three of them to join him, his eyes focusing on Thomas, who had gone slightly off colour at his father's comments. He was still not content with the situation, particularly as he had a meeting with Jane's father that afternoon and even though his headache had gone, he would not be happy if the rules had been broken under his roof.

'He came to see if I was alright,' replied Lucy, slightly insulted by her future father-in-law's suggestion, 'Johanna heard me being ill and went to fetch him. Believe me, sir, I am in no state to make the bed creak,'

Sir John looked at the woman, who was the source of all his troubles, with a cold stare, only she met his eyes without flinching. No one, except his wife, would ever have spoken to him in such a manor, but whereas with him and his wife, the arguing was constantly be about money, here it was something different-for the love of his beloved son.

'Father,' voiced Thomas, taking hold of Lucy's hand, 'please forgive me for breaking the rules, but Lucy has been so ill, I think we should fetch a physician,'

'And I keep telling you,' laughed Lucy, kissing his hand, 'it is only natural. The physician will simply laugh and take your coins,'

Sir John looked over at the two of them and sighed-they already looked like the perfect little family, Thomas resuming the role of the doting husband and father. Thomas always did have his head clouds, though hopefully once the baby was born and Thomas had a wife and child to support, maybe it would help him see sense thought, Sir John, particularly as Lucy seem to have some common sense between her ears.

'I think Thomas,' said Sir John, reaching for the bread, as he read one of the letters he had brought to the breakfast table, 'we should listen to the mother-to-be on this one…Do not argue with me on this, Thomas, for if you carry on like this, you will find yourself in a grave before the baby is in the cradle…and do not take my words as a compliment, my dear, I still angry at the both of you for breaking the first rule,'

Sir John tired not to choke on his breakfast as he spoke, knowing full well that he had secretly encouraged his son and this woman to, as Lucy put it, 'make the bed creak,'. But he had never expected, this woman to make him a grandfather.

'And again father, we are both truly sorry,' replied Thomas, letting his and Lucy's linked hands fall on to Lucy's lap, the back of his hand stroking Lucy belly as it so, 'but you will forgive us, once you met your granddaughter,'

'I will take your word for that, Thomas,'

'Father,' interrupted John, deciding now was as good a time as ever, given that his father was very unlikely to be in a good mood today, 'would it be possible for me to speak with you later?'

'Of course, John,' replied his father, before looking up at his youngest son, 'why? I trust you have not got a girl in trouble too, have you?'

'I can assure you the answer is defiantly no, father,' laughed John, only to stop once he saw the serious look in his father's eyes, 'I'm as pure as the snow outside,'

'Good,' muttered Sir John, glance over at his oldest son, 'I'm glad one of my sons, still is!'

'Where the bloody hell is he?' they heard a booming voice shout at one of the servants, as the front door flew open, 'you better tell him to run, cause when I get my hands on him, I'll kill him!'

'Who on earth...'started John, looking puzzled, as he saw Thomas turn slightly white again and Lucy put her head in her hands.

'My father,' she groaned, taking one of her hands away from her head and taking hold of Thomas', 'and by the sounds of it, he's heard the news-I'll kill Joan when I see her,'

Within seconds the door to parlour flew open and Lucy's father, along with a youth, Thomas judged to be fifteen, who he held by the collar of his dirty shirt and was thrown into the room, before Lucy's father entered. Thomas, who was not usually scared by confrontation but remembering his first meeting with this man, he was aware Lucy's father was not going to be easily won over.

'Father,' smiled Lucy, getting to her feet and going over to the boy that had just been thrown into the room and was hanging around in the corner, 'and Tommy, what are you doing here,'

'Why am I here? Why am I here?' coked Geoffrey Clossop, 'well let see, first of all I get your poor aunt on my doorstep, crying, cause has Tommy decided to get himself arrested again and then that drunken mare of a friend of yours tells all my regulars, that I'm going to be a grandfather! So is it true –have you got my little girl pregnant...and I'm asking him, Lucy not you!'

Thomas swallowed hard as his future father-in-law stared at him, he could tell Lucy's father would not easily be calmed down and besides the youth, who he guest was Lucy cousin by the blue eyes, was making him feel uneasy.

'I am sorry that you had to find out this way...'

'So it is true!' roared Lucy's father, hitting the table with his fist so hard, John almost found his breakfast in his lap, 'didn't I tell you he was trouble, Lucy! Didn't I warn you, he wanted to get his dirty hands up your skirts! Tommy put that bread roll down!'

Everyone briefly looked from the scene to Tommy, who begrudgingly put the bread roll back on the plate.

'He can help himself if he's hungry,' said Thomas, finding some strength as he felt Lucy once again take hold of his hand, 'I imagine the food in prison is not that nice,'

'Oh you imagine,' snorted Geoffrey, advancing towards his daughter and Thomas, 'you imagine! Now do imagine what my Lucy's life is going to be like, with a bastard child to care for! I could see the way you lusted after her; I should have beaten you black and blue when I had the chance, instead of waiting till the damage is done!'

'You lay a figure on him, father,' shouted Lucy, so loudly that she caused all the men in the room to jump, 'and I swear you will never see me again!'

'Don't be stupid, my girl!'

'Don't call me stupid, father! I knew what I was doing! If you want to blame anyone, then blame me! But we have done nothing wrong!'

Geoffrey looked his daughter and only child up and down. He hated being angry with her, as she reminded him so much of his poor departed wife, but at the same time, he had always proud himself on having such a respectable daughter. He enjoyed listening to the regulars in his tavern go on about how they wished their daughters were like Lucy; never in trouble, sensible, responsible, never drunk or seen with men. But now, she was pregnant out of wedlock and in Geoffrey's mind, the whole of London now knew.

'Nothing wrong!' he gasped, grabbing hold to back of the chair and steadying himself, 'nothing wrong! Can you hear yourself, girl? Even Tommy can spot what you have done wrong! I raised you better than this, Lucy! I raised you right!'

'No,' replied Lucy, her voice shaking, as she held Thomas' hand tighter, 'I love you father but you never raised. When mother died you past me on to auntie, who did her best but then you past me on to John-I had to look after myself! I could see the pain in your eyes, every time you saw me with a black eye but every time you left me! I had to learn how to survive on my own,'

'Thats not true, Lucy! When you had Georgie...'

'And when he died, I was on my own again, because you couldn't face the fact we lost him. I had to survive on my own again, but I'm sick of having to survive on my own,'

Thomas looked over at Lucy and saw tears starting to form in her bright eyes. On the first day they met, he had seen her tough and he seen her venerable, looking for comfort. Forgetting his fears over Lucy's father, he placed an arm round her waist.

'I promise I will look after her,' replied Thomas, his voice regaining his usual strength, 'I love your daughter. I have no intentions of hurting her or our baby,'

'Promises maybe all well and good in your world, Master More,' answered back Lucy's father, still not convinced. He had been brought up in the tavern he now owned, after inheriting from his father, so over the years he had seen many women hover around the bar, having been brought low after falling for the promises of men of higher station, 'but you can't live off of them,'

'Excuse me,' interrupted Sir John, finally speaking as he usually held his tongue during other families quarrels but found he could no longer, 'first of all, how dare you charge into my house and threaten my son! If you weren't the poor girl's father, I would have you in the stocks! Second, they both know they have done wrong and are determined to put it right, you have my word,'

'Your word!' laughed Geoffrey, throwing his head back and showing what remained of teeth, 'I have your word! Well I don't give nothing for your word! What do you know of life, you and your precious son have never done a good honest day's work in your lives! You know naught of the real world!'

John, who had continued to eat his breakfast throughout the whole scene, suddenly withdrew from the table to the corner of the room, where Tommy sat. He knew Lucy's father had crossed the line-no one ever accused Sir John of not knowing what hard work was. His father had been respectable enough but everything the More family know held was thanks to Sir John's hard work, working every hour godsend, cultivating the doors of power, making good use of every acquaintance he met along the way and pushing his children to the brink, so that they could continue this line.

'How dare you!' roared Sir John, so loud that even Lucy shook slightly, 'just because I have done well out of life, does not mean I have not worked and I have worked even harder than the likes of you! A tavern keeper, should be grateful that I'm letting his daughter marry my oldest son,'

'Grateful!' scoffed Geoffrey, 'you're only letting him cause you can't face the scandal and that your son is nothing but...'

'Oh for the love of God,' screamed Lucy, sending the chamber into silence, 'please just all such up!'

'You should also count yourself lucky,' continued Sir John, ignoring Lucy's plea, 'that I'm not asking for a dowry,'

'It's you who should be paying me!'

In the corner, John sighed before turning to Tommy, who was watching his uncle and Sir John with a mischievous grin.

'What did you do to end up in prison?'

'Beat up my father,' laughed Tommy, throwing his head back as he did so and John, thought briefly that he could sympathise with that notion.

'How many times have I told you not to,' shouted Lucy, turning to her cousin, trying to suppress the urge to hit across the head, 'you ain't helping your mother! Your making it worse, cause he then takes it out...'

But Lucy could not finish, instead she turned and fled the room, tears starting to stream from her eyes. Thomas went to follow her, but as he did so, Tommy caught hold of his arm.

'Welcome to the family,'

* * *

'Please do not cry, Lucy,' said Thomas, catching up with her and taking hold of her hand, 'it cannot be good for the both of you,'

Lucy sighed and put her arms round Thomas' neck. She hated crying, she hated to show weakness, but the baby was making her feel fragile and having someone at her side, to care for them, was making her more so.

'Why can't it ever be simple?' she sighed, 'why must there always be an argument? Why do I have to constantly feel as though I need to fight?'

'Well,' smiled Thomas, placing a hand on the side of her face and wiping away a tear, 'you cannot get to Heaven on a feathered bed,'

'I wouldn't mind giving it a try!' snorted Lucy with a small laugh as she looked into Thomas' grey eyes, 'makes a change, you having to easy my mind,'

'Ah! But it is not the first,' whispered Thomas, 'and it will not be the last. Now no more tears. Your father loves you; he will come round once he sees how happy our little family is together. I promise you,'

'I will hold you to that promise, Master More,' smiled Lucy, as she pulled him against her and placed her lips on top his, 'te amo,'

'Te amo,' gasped Thomas, as he and Lucy kissed, in a manor, in which they had not kissed for a long while. They let go of all their senses and gave into passion, letting their mouths do the one thing, they knew they could not let their bodies do until their wedding night, 'wait the baby!'

'Kissing won't hurt it,' whispered Lucy, returning her mouth back to her fiancé's and the two of the once again became engrossed in each other. So much so, that they failed to notice that Tommy was spying on them from behind the corner-it was only when Thomas' father stormed into the hall, that they separated.

'Thomas, put that girl down! Wolsey wants to see you both!'

* * *

'What does he want,' whispered Lucy, as the two walked down the corridor at Eltham Palace, Lucy holding on to Thomas' arm. It was still earlier morning, so the corridors were mainly full of servants cleaning and lighting the fires, ready for the day ahead.

'Probably to give us our marching orders,' laughed Thomas, guiding Lucy around the corridor, terrified that she might slip on the wet floor, the way he had been frightened that she might fall on the snow, 'Lucy, please be careful,'

'Thomas,' Lucy stopped, putting her hands on her hips, in mock anger as she laughed, 'I am not made of glass, I will not smash and if you're going to be like this when the baby is only month grown, what are you going to be like at nine? Your father's right, your heart will give out,'

Thomas smiled as he looked as his bride, who despite her heavy sickness in the small hours of the morning, seemed to have blossomed in the winter air. Her skin had a health glow, her eyes were sparkling more than usual, like the stars he had staring at last night, her lips red and he was sure, if her hair was not bundled under her hood, it would be golden. For that moment, Thomas did not even seem to mind, the group of servants listening to their conversation.

'Just promise me, when we get home,' Thomas smiled, reaching out and taken hold her hand, 'you will just sit there and sew or read,'

'Ah,' replied Lucy, as the two of them resumed their journey to Wolsey's office, 'the only problem there is, I don't know enough to read your clever books,'

'Well, I will teach you,'

'Even Ancient Greek?'

'Especially Ancient Greek,'

'I will strike a deal with you then. You teach me everything that you know and I will teach you common sense,'

'I believe I can consent to that contract,' laughed Thomas, as he knocked on Wolsey's door.

* * *

'Ah Thomas and Goodwife Giggs,' replied Wolsey solemnly, bidding them both to sit down. Wolsey had gone through everything he had to say to the pair, repeatedly since the plan formed in his head late last night. It was so simple to execute, he had even caught himself smiling at one moment as he recalled how this matter had greatly troubled his mind, yet the answer had been so simple. But now as the time came for the two lovers to go their separate ways, his heart had become heavy, 'I am sorry to have dragged you out of bed at such an ungodly hour,'

'Do not worry yourself,' replied Thomas with a smile, which almost forced Wolsey to rethink his plans, but England's need was greater than Thomas need to be with his little serving wench, 'though we have been wondering why you have called us here,'

Wolsey sighed as he sat down in his chair and glanced over at Goodwife Giggs, whose hands were placed protectively over her belly and he remembered it was not just two people's lives going to be altered today. The poor innocent baby growing in its mother's womb, whole destiny would be altered in a few moments, when Wolsey uttered his fatal fib.

'I hear congratulations are in order,' said Wolsey, composing himself, 'you both must be very happy, in particular you Goodwife Giggs,'

'We are both very happy,' answered Lucy, placing a hand on Thomas' shoulder, knowing out of the men associated with his life, the Cardinal was the one she trusted the least, 'but surely that can't be the only reason for you to call us here,'

She was clever, Wolsey would never deny her that-Thomas had chosen well. And Thomas certainly thought so, as he still looked her with love struck eyes. It would all be perfect, if only she was from the right stock.

'Goodwife Giggs,' he continued, after taking a deep breath, 'Thomas, please believe me, I take no pleasure in what I am about to say and believe me, if I could find away to make all well, I would,'

'I understand,' nodded Thomas, taking Lucy's hand. He did not like the idea of having to face his father and explain to him that he was once again a simple lawyer but he was more than willing to face his wrath, 'we must do as the King commands,'

'I'm afraid, Thomas, that things are not quite so simple,' said Wolsey, trying to command the scene, 'I have had some reports from France and I am very sorry to inform you...inform you both, that Goodwife Giggs' husband is still alive,'

Wolsey looked at them both, waiting for their reaction, so he could take his cue but neither one of them moved or said a word; they just stared at him, as they thought they were statues.

'I understand from rumours, ' continued Wolsey, deciding it was best to make the first move, 'that there is a child on the way. Now if you both wish...'

'John is dead,' Lucy suddenly said, in a quiet voice, shaking slightly, 'John is dead,'

'I'm very sorry ,my dear, but reports tell me otherwise. John Giggs, your late husband, is living in France with a woman of...'

'Let me see the report!' Lucy suddenly shouted, causing Wolsey to jump but Thomas remind as still as stone, 'I demand to see the report!'

Quickly, Wolsey produced the first letter from his desk and handed it to Lucy, who snatch from him. Slowly she read the words, trying her best to understand everyone and when she finished, she read it again and again.

'I'm afraid, my dear...'

'John is dead!' cried Lucy, feeling the chamber start to spin around her, as her mind recalled every argument, every beating. She thought him gone, she had thought herself free, ready to start a new life with the man she loved and their child, but now John was back to haunt her, 'John is dead! He's dead! He's dead!'

Wolsey watched, in disbelief as the woman, he had always thought of as tough and one of life survivors, collapsed before his eyes. Sinking to floor, letting the paper fall, as her arms hugged herself tight, trying to protect herself as her world crumbled before her eyes.

'There is nothing I can do, Goodwife Giggs,' continued Wolsey, trying to take control, fearing the damage she could do, 'now you surely understand that you cannot remain in employment here. I will make sure you are moved to another source of employment, perhaps in another part of the country,'

'But London's my home,' said Lucy, through her tears as she got to her feet with the aid of the desk, 'I've already lost so much today, please I beg you, please don't let me lose my home too,'

'My dear,' replied Wolsey, hiding any emotion in his voice, 'you are a smart woman, you know you cannot be expected to remain here. It does not look good and we must not have you and Thomas coming into contact. Now I will speak to Thomas' father. I'm sure we can all come to an arrangement, in which you and the baby are well looked after and Thomas can put all this unfortunate business behind him,'

'Unfortunate business,' shouted Lucy, disgusted at Wolsey's words, 'unfortunate business. Don't make it seem dirty, cause it was anything but! We were together because of love, not what you're thinking,'

'It makes no difference whether you and Thomas were in love or it was a moment of thoughtless passion. The point is, Thomas cannot have a bastard child following him around like a shadow! Now, my dear, I know you love him, so you must want what is best for him,'

'Don't call me, my dear!' snapped Lucy, before turning to Thomas, who had remained silent. Throwing herself down by his chair and taking hold of his hand, she kissed it and held it tight in her shaking hands, 'Thomas, please, I love you. I swear I didn't know. I though John dead, you know that, don't you? But I don't know what to do? Please tell me, what to do,'

Lucy tried to smile, reassuringly, through her tears. She needed to hear kind words, she needed for someone to tell her that it was all going to be well. She was not a woman, who allowed herself to be placed under illusions, but at that moment, Lucy needed him to hold her and reassure her.

'Thomas,' whispered Lucy, letting go of his hand, placing her right hand on the side of his face, staring into his expressionless eyes, as her fingers played with his hair, 'I'm so scared. I can't go through it all again by myself. I'm not strong enough, I thought I would bring this child into a world with you at my side. Please Thomas, hold me, please tell me all will be well,'

'I'm sorry, Lucy,' Thomas suddenly croaked, knocking Lucy's hands away as he got to his feet and fled towards the door, leaving Lucy sobbing, as her hands fell on her stomach, 'forgive me,'

'You're just a coward, Thomas More!' she shouted, after him, before sinking once again to the floor, 'you're just a coward!'

* * *

Thomas ran down the hall, not seeing anyone or anything. He could hardly breath, it felt like he was being crushed, as though he was in the press with more and more stones being laid on top of him.

What had he done? The Devil had tempted him and he had readily let Satan win! Not only that, he had brought poor Lucy down with him, not to mention their innocent unborn baby. The poor baby, not only will now be tainted by sin in this world but in the life to come-all because he could not control his lust.

Before him danced images of him and Lucy entwined in each other, lying on his bed or before the fire place or that moment of weakness on their walk. He could feel her legs wrapped round his waist, her lips kissing his chest, he could hear her mouth gasping his name-it was all he could hear, the sound echoing through his mind. But poor Lucy, was not the one to blame. He had wanted her in every way, since the moment he laid eyes on her that day in the city. All those times when they were just friends, it was not friendship he really wanted but her. He had wanted her mouth on his, her body crush against his-not just an embrace, but an embrace involving every unholy act.

Finally he reached the chapel, still trying to suppress every image of him bringing Lucy to the state of sin. He needed to repent, he need to beg for forgiveness, saving their souls for his consulting with the devil. He had committed adultery, he could have committed bigamy. He could already feel the flames around him, as he threw himself on the stone alter, smashing his head so hard on the stone, that the noise echoed around the chapel.

'_Confiteor Deo omnipotenti, beatae Mariae semper Virgini, beato Michaeli Archangelo, beato Joanni Baptistae, sanctis Apostolis Petro et Paulo, omnibus Sanctis, et tibi Pater: quia peccavi nimis cogitatione, verbo et opere: __mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.__ Ideo precor beatam Mariam semper Virginem, beatum Michaelem Archangelum, beatum Joannem Baptistam, sanctos Apostolos Petrum et Paulum, omnes Sanctos, et te Pater, orare pro me ad Dominum Deum Nostrum, _

He finished his prayer but it did no good, the image of him raining kisses over Lucy's naked body continued to dance before his eyes. Desperate ,Thomas closed his eyes, trying hard to clear the image from his conscience but it would not cease.

'_Mea cupla, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa,' _cried Thomas, banging his head on the stone as hard as he could, then doing it again and again, anything to show God and the saints that he wanted to atone. Finally, as the skin broke and Thomas tasted blood on his lips, he ceased banging his head and continued to prayer, tears in his eyes as he fixed them on the Virgin and Child.

'_Confiteor Deo omnipotenti, beatae Mariae semper Virgini…' _continued Thomas_, _praying so hard that the cross on his rosary, started to piece his flesh.

* * *

Wolsey was talking, but Lucy had stopped listening, she had heard this speech a thousand times before, to other girl, who found themselves with child but no father for their unborn babe.

'I will suggest Canterbury, to Sir John,' continued Wolsey, marching up and down the chamber, 'it's close enough for you to be near you family but...'

But her Thomas was not like other men. He loved her, he loved every inch of her, not just her looks or her body but her soul. Most women would have been driven mad by Thomas worries, especially after they had made love, but not Lucy; it was what she loved most about him.

'I'm certain the Mores will contribute to the baby's up bringing...'

Poor Thomas, Lucy suddenly thought, he must be in Hell. He will be blaming himself, thinking he'd forced them into sin of adultery. Thomas would be torturing himself, sending himself mad with penitence-and all Lucy could do, was call him a coward.

'I need to see Thomas,' she suddenly cried, running to the door before Wolsey could stop her and into the hall.

She had to see him. She had to make him see, that he was not to blame for all that had passed. That he was innocent. They were not to know, they were doing wrong -they had thought themselves safe and ready for a new life together. Lucy need to reassure him, so that he could reassure her-then they could think of what best to do, for the new life growing inside her.

Lucy ran out towards the Palace courtyard, the chapel almost in sight. Running down the stone stairs, she failed to notice a small patch of ice had started to form, but as her boot fell on it, it was too late. With a scream, Lucy slipped, tumbling down the few remaining stairs, landing with a thud and hitting her head so hard on the stone ground, she lost conscious.


	20. Chapter 20

**First of all, I am so sorry that I have taken so long with this update-please forgive me. Secondly and most importantly, a b****ig thank you to everyone who is reading this story and for all my lovely reviews (can't believe I have 50-thank you)-it all means so much. I hope everyone will enjoy this chapter, though I'm afraid it isn't very happy. **

'As regrettable as it sounds,' sighed Wolsey, trying to ignore the cries of pain coming from the next chamber, 'a miscarriage is probably the best outcome all round,'

John More glanced over at Wolsey, from where he was sat by Wolsey's desk and threw him a cynical look. Perhaps it was hypocritical of him to suddenly feel pity for the girl, who was to have been his daughter-in-law, especially as he had been cursing her for ruining his grand plans for his son all morning, but now, as he heard her mournful cries, even his heart felt crushed.

'Do not looked at me like that, Sir John,' muttered Wolsey, leaning against the wall, trying to clear his mind and make his peace with God-his withholding of the truth was never meant to cause this much pain, 'you of all people never wanted that poor girl as a member of your family,'

'True,' replied John, swallowing hard, trying to ignore Lucy's heartbreaking the sobs, which cut through the walls and into his usually cold heart, 'but I am not heartless. She was carrying my son's child and as much as Thomas' infuriates me at times, I've never wanted to break his heart,'

'Well,' sighed Wolsey, feeling his headache as if his prayer had been ignored but it was too late to retreat now, 'I'm afraid you have no choice,'

'You mean Thomas does not know?'

'That his baby died, no,' muttered Wolsey. He had not seen Thomas, since he had told him the 'news' about Goodwife Giggs' husband but a message from one of his servants, had informed him that he had not taken the news well, 'I thought it was best, he heard the news from you...I'm afraid Thomas is not in a good way,'

'No, I cannot imagine he is,' whispered John, heading towards the door and finding himself wishing that poor Agnes was still with them-she always knew how to handle Thomas' black moods, 'I should go to him,'

'He is in the Chapel. Be careful with him,'

John turned back and nodded solemnly. John More knew he was not the best of fathers, but it was not for lack of care-he never wanted any of them to come to any harm. Life was hard and it was a fight, one could not sit back and expect the world and its glories to come to them; they needed to go out, cultivate and take all life had to offer, whether it was through the law, the Royal Court or marriage but he never wished harm to come to any of them. Thomas had always been good at playing the part life had instructed him. When he was little, he would invade the stage during the Christmastide celebrations and take over the show, much to the annoyance of the travelling players, but these last few months, when he was with this girl, John had seen his son be himself; not echoing words others had fed him but simply being himself. He had been so happy about the baby and had doted on its mother, so much so, that he had even broken the rules, but now the mother-to-be was crying in the next chamber for the loss of his son and their child, while Thomas was mourning the loss of his love-not knowing there was worse news to torment himself with. John made his way towards the door, trying to still to block out Lucy's tears but as his hand grazed the handle, a thought stuck him.

'I do not recall, Wolsey, asking you to look into the poor girl's past,'

'Because you did not. I took the liberty,' replied Wolsey, meeting John's examining stare as he turned to face him. John was not a man to be easily deceived, had he guessed the truth? 'this nonsense needed to be stopped,'

'Strange that the husband should rise from the dead at the very moment, I gave my blessing to my son,'

Wolsey was slightly taken aback as John More walked back into the chamber. He was not like Thomas. John More had built his reputation as being a man of tough presence, a lawyer capable of winning any case, no matter how tricky or difficult-not many could handle the ego of the Duke of Buckingham-he was not a man you wanted as an enemy. He was a hard man to please, his oldest son was more than proof of that, but it was also evidence of something more than that, for no matter how stress he placed on Thomas, he would do anything to protect him.

'One thing I've learned in this world, Sir John, is that God works in mysterious way,' said Wolsey, sitting down at his desk, trying to hide his strain, 'for now he has granted you the wedding you wanted for your son. A wedding attended by all those of importance in the City, instead of having to marry off your son in front of only two witnesses, as you do not want the world to know the bride is carrying more than flowers,'

John More looked Wolsey up and down, suspiciously with one of his eye brows raised, causing the lines on his forehead to deepen. He had been disappointed at the change of plans, the grand wedding he had planned for his son, reduced to handful of carefully picked family, all gossiping over Lucy's gradually rounding belly, that was not the wedding he wanted for Thomas. He knew he would lose an aspect of his reputation, particularly as he would be going back on many agreements he made with Jane's father, but never would he have wanted this much pain brought on the innocent-especially, on what would have been his grandchild.

'I need to see my son,' he replied, turning once again to the door, but as he heard another mournful cry, John More once again hesitated, 'what will become of her?'

'Do not worry about the girl, Sir John,' answered Wolsey, trying to blockout Lucy cries. He had not expected her to react in such away. She always seemed such a tough young lady, one who, behind those bright blue innocent eyes, knew the cruelties of this life and the tricks to survive them. He had not expected her to collapse in tears of pain, nor in any part of his mind, had he thought she would be robbed of her baby, 'I will see she is safe. You just concern yourself with your son,'

'Thomas really does love her, you know,' sighed John More, dreading the task he now had to perform, 'and she loves him,'

'Love is only a passing emotion,' said Wolsey, staring down at the papers on his desk, trying to act as if all was as it should be, 'you of all men should know that. But duty and honour are things that are ever lasting. I think, Sir John, you know how to put things right,'

* * *

_Lucy smiled as she rested her head on Thomas' chest and felt his arms round her, his thumb gently stroking the warm flesh of her arm. She felt so safe at that moment, in fact every moment with Thomas made her feel secure. All her life she had had to fight, whether it was John, money or grief, there was always something Lucy felt she had to put all her strength into defeating, but now there was no more need. Her life had now found peace…_

The small chamber Lucy was lying in, was full of people, but yet it still felt empty and herself completely alone. Her aunt was on one side of the bed, cradling her in her arms as she cried, whilst Joan was sat at her other side, holding her hand. Out of the corner of her eye, Lucy could see her father, pacing up and down the chamber, muttering about what he was going to Thomas once he got hold of him, as cousins Elizabeth and Katherine just looked at the floor, while Tommy's blue eyes seemed to be studying the scene with sadness.

Lucy had not wanted them there. She did not even known who had told them about what had happened with John and her fall. For because of the blow to her head, which had left a lump the size of an egg growing on her forehead and caused her head to spin, she did not remember asking for them. They were all trying to help and comfort her with their word or simply by their presence, but the only person Lucy wanted to hold and comfort her, could no longer allow himself to be near her.

'Oh my poor little Lucy,' cooed Lucy's aunt, Dau, cradling her head so tight in her arms, that Lucy feared she might choke, 'you cry, my poor little child,'

'My baby,' Lucy choked, still not believing what had befallen her that morning, 'my baby...Thomas,'

'I'll kill him,' raged Geoffrey, marching up and down chamber his old boots pounding hard on the floor boards. As he walked, his eyes focused on anything but his distressed daughter. He was not a man good at dealing with grief-the men in his family never had been. His own father had turned into a brute after the death of his wife and baby daughter-Geoffrey and Dau's little sister, 'how dare he do this my daughter,'

'It ain't his fault,' muttered Tommy, curling his lip as he spoke, 'he didn't hurt her,'

'Didn't hurt her! Didn't hurt her,' raged Geoffrey, turning on his nephew, 'you stupid boy, can't you see the pain he's caused?'

'I can see, Uncle,' sneered back Tommy, who was getting fed up with those around him, constantly telling him how to behaviour, 'I can see Lucy's crying, because that bastard you married her off to is still alive and has taken what she truly wanted away from her,'

'Tommy, don't speak to your Uncle like that,' hissed his mother, continuing to hold her niece's head against her as she cried, 'there, there, my sweet...you just cry,'

'I want my baby, I want Thomas,' cried Lucy, this time in whisper as the pain in her increased, 'we were going to get married. We were going to have a baby. ...Be a family...Thomas...I love him,'

'I know you do sweet, I know,' smoothed her aunt, running her fingers gently through her niece's hair, 'maybe you could get a message to John and you and him could try again,'

At these words, Lucy's tears ceased. Slowly she pulled away from her aunt, the woman who had brought her up and turned to her with cold blue eyes. Sadness fell from her body with the mention of the man, who had ruined all her dreams and waves of anger starting to rage through her body.

'I don't want John. I don't want John,' she replied sharply, 'I want Thomas,'

'I know you do, sweet, but it can't be. So maybe if John comes home, you and he could start again and have a family,'

Lucy was the good girl of the family, always did what she was told and while she would argue, she would never be intentionally nasty or hurtful, but at that moment, Lucy felt she no longer cared about anything. Her world had just collapsed around her, the dream she had allowed herself to dream had crumbled and turned to dust. No loving husband, no cubby baby to bounce on her knee, no little family...no hope-and all because a man, who treated her as though she was a dirty whore.

'Maybe you are happy with your husband kicking and punching you like you're dog, but I'm not!' shouted Lucy, pushing her aunt away, 'maybe you can get use to him abusing your children, but I don't want that life!'

'Lucy,' gasped her father, not believing the words his daughter had just uttered, as he placed an arm on his sister shoulder, as she herself tried not to cry, 'I know you're hurt but...'

'Hurt! Hurt! I feel like I have knife in my heart!'

'Maybe,' interrupted Joan, putting an arm around her best friend's shoulder and pulling her back to the pillows, 'maybe if we had some good news to cheer us up...me and William are getting married and I'm going to have a baby,'

Joan continued to smile, hoping that her good news would cheer Lucy-after all, by her marrying William, would mean Lucy would no longer have to look after her. But for everyone else in the small chamber, their faces dropped as they heard Joan depart the worse news possible to their Lucy-even Elizabeth and Katherine who had both been staring uneasily at the floor, suddenly looked up with horror.

'Oh God,' groaned both Tommy and Geoffrey at the same time as they saw Lucy's face grow even darker.

'Happy news! Happy! Everyone is right Joan, you are as stupid as you are easy!' shouted Lucy, clinching her fists so tight that her nails started to dig into the palms of her hands, as tears once again started to tumble from her eyes, 'I bet he's in bed with another whore as we speak!'

'I think we all need to calm…'started Geoffrey in a gently tone, as he was shocked by the amount of anger, he saw twisted on his daughter's usually pretty face.

'No!' screamed Lucy, picking up the jug of beer left by her bed and hurling it across the chamber, causing it to smash hard against a painting of Leah and Rachel, 'no! Just get out! All of you, get out! I don't want any of you! Get out! Get out!'

* * *

_Thomas flinched as the early morning sun, streamed in through the shutters and landed on the bed. He was not use to being in bed at this time of the morning, as he was always up before sun rise, despite the fact most of the household would still be abed, not want to idly away the hours of the day. But this morning was different; he did not want to move from the warm bed-besides if he moved he would wake Lucy, who was lying peacefully in his arms. Her head resting on his chest, Thomas watched her sleep as his fingers gently stroked her long hair, which glistened in the sunlight. _

_She looked so peaceful, thought Thomas as he kissed her on the top of the head and breath in the gently smell of lavender, which Lucy always wore. Why did she have to be so perfect? She was so sharp, so clever, yet never boastful, full of beauty but never vain, practical and spiritual-Lucy was everything and she was to be his wife._

'_What's so funny? Lucy sleepily mumbled, wriggling as she gradually woke up, before once again snuggling against her lover's body. _

'_I was just thinking,' smiled Thomas, 'how I use to abhor those men, who would idly away their hours because they listened too much to their heart,'_

'_You know,' replied Lucy, feeling more awake as she gently kissed him on the chest, before sitting up and moving back to the pillow, so their heads were now lying side by side, 'I going to take that as a compliment,'_

'_Good,' laughed Thomas, as they both turned to face each other. Lucy's long unbrushed hair, was draped over her shoulders with strands covering her beautiful face, causing Thomas to gently push them to the side, so he could look into her eyes, 'it was intended as one,'_

_With a sleepy smile, Lucy leaned forward and placed a hand on the side of Thomas' face, her thumb gently stroking his cheek as she kissed him on the lips._

'_Then you're lucky, Master More, because no other women would take that so. You'll never find another woman like me,' _

_Placing her head on his shoulder, Thomas wrapped his arms around her and held her close to him and watch as she slowly drift back to sleep. Once again Thomas stared at her and let his fingers play with her hair, running them through the strands, until they grazed the beads of her son's rosary-once again he smiled._

'_I could never love another woman, the way I love you, Lucy,'_

__

_

* * *

_

Leaning back, Thomas' spinning head hit the cold wood of the pew as he slumped down in the aisle. He did not know how long he had been there, nor did he give it much thought, for at the moment in time, he longed for nothing more than to cease to exist to the real word.

He was not worthy of the world of God-not after the sins he had committed. Thomas stared at the palms of his hands, both marked by the sharp points of his rosary and he could still taste the blood, from his cut head on his lips, but it was no good. He was a sinner, a willing sinner, who had lusted after and laid with a married woman, enjoying every moment of the act and in his actions, damning not only poor Lucy, but the innocent baby now growing in her belly. But worse of all, no matter how hard he prayed, no matter how much pain he inflicted on his body, (the instrument of his sin), was that the love he felt for Lucy in his heart, would not cease. His heart was telling him to find and comfort her, the way she had wanted it to be-to tell her, that they and their child could still be a family. But that too could never be, not without delving more into depravity.

'Thomas,' echoed a voice round the chapel, bringing Thomas out of the torture playing in his mind and looking up, he saw his father standing over him.

'Father,' he croaked, trying to get to his feet, only to find that the bows he had inflicted on his head make him nauseas and he collapsed back on the floor, 'I…'

'I know, Thomas,' replied Sir John, trying to hide his shock at the state of his son, especially as he saw blood on his face and shirt. What had happened to him? Why did Thomas always feel the need to repent, as though he was trying to atone for the sins of the world? Agnes had been that way, weeping for hours until her head hurt and she had made herself sick. Oh Agnes, he wished she was here with them now. She was always so good at dealing with their children's problems, especially when it came to Thomas, who from an early age was plagued with nightmares of Hell, 'Wolsey told me. What have you done to yourself?'

'It is the only way, father,' whispered Thomas, staring once again the palms of his hands, 'it is the only way to save us. Not that I deserve such grace, but Lucy and our child are still worthy of God,'

John More gulped as he heard Thomas mention his baby. How could he tell him, that it was no more? But there was no choice. Maybe in time, it would ease his pain.

'Thomas,' sighed John, crossing himself, before sitting down beside his son, in an attempt to try and show comfort-something which he was not very good at giving, 'I am afraid that I bring some bad news. Lucy, on her way to find you, slipped on the ice, which caused her to suffer a very nasty fall. She is fine but Thomas, I'm afraid that she lost the baby. I'm sorry,'

Shifting uneasily on the stone ground, John looked at his son, waiting for a reaction, but Thomas just stared straight ahead as his lips moved silently and frantically.

'My child is dead,' he finally said, in an emotionless voice, which sent a shiver down his father's spin, 'my child is dead,'

'I'm afraid so, Thomas,'

'No!' Thomas suddenly gasped, as much to his father's horror, he smashed the back of his head against the wood, 'no! She was innocent! My daughter was innocent! It was all my fault! All my sin!'

He continued to hit his head, the hollow sound ringing in John More's ears. He had to stop this, his favourite son was destroying himself before his eyes. John knew he was no good with kind words and hugs, the only way he could see his son right was by using, his usual forceful manner.

'For the love of God, Thomas, stop,' he commanded, grabbing hold of Thomas' doublet and forcing him to look at him, 'now listen to me. No one is to blame for what has happened today. You and Lucy were not to know her husband was still alive, nor is anyone to blame for the accident. It just all been a terrible chain of events and that is all,'

'No father,' whispered Thomas, shaking his head slowly, 'I gave into the devil. All this is my doing…I need to put it right,'

Sir John bit his lip and muttered a prayer to God and the Saints. He never thought this would be the way his hopes and dreams would come together for his son, but it could be the only chance he had of saving him-or so John More convinced himself.

'You know Thomas,' he said calmly, letting go of his son, 'if you feel so strongly about it, I could always speak to John Colt, about the possibility of you and Jane…'

'But how can I marry Jane, father,' replied Thomas, shocked at such a suggestion, 'my heart still longs for Lucy and besides, maybe I should just retire from the world, so as I do not cause anymore hurt,'

'And that is what the devil wants of you, Thomas,' said his father, who found his headache had once again returned, 'he wants you to do such a thing, so as you will not continue doing the good, which you already do in outside world. Thomas, you will come to love Jane. She already loves you and you will have a family. Surely what better way of healing the wounds of today, by proving to the Lord that you are worthy of such blessings,'

'But my Lucy…'

'Come, now Thomas,' smiled John, as he stared at the stain glass window and saw the image of Abraham, banishing Hagar and their son, staring back at him, as he felt the pain in his head grow, 'Lucy's a tough girl and clever. Do not worry about her. She is strong enough to survive,'

'But she's not father,' whispered Thomas, remembering the first night when she had sobbed into his chest over the death of her first child-as he did so, he shifted uncomfortable as he felt her arms once again around him, 'she can be so weak sometimes…I have ruined her…perhaps, I should see her,'

Thomas made to get to his feet, but found they soon gave way and he fell back to his seat. How could he see her, knowing all he had done to her? He had ruined her and robbed her of her place with the angels, not to mention her corruption in this world. She had lost her reputation, her job and probably her home because of him, but what if he saw her. How would he feel? How could he control his love and lusts for her, if he let himself look into those beautiful blue eyes again? He could not go back to the Charterhouse, not after he had given into the wants of the flesh, but was marrying Jane truly what God wanted.

'I do not think that wise, Thomas,' said John, his voice taking on the lawyerlike tone of his, 'it will only cause you both more hurt...Do you remember, when you were a boy, running on stage, during the holiday revels and stealing the scene from the travelling players? Well, life is like a play, Thomas, we all have a role to play in God's theatre. You have let yourself recently recite the wrong lines and fell from the stage, but now you have a chance to have your part back and you must take it with both hands, otherwise you will only suffer more hurt. Do you understand me, Thomas?'

'Yes, father,' nodded Thomas, staring once again at the palms of his hands, 'I understand my role, father,'

* * *

Lucy listened to the clock strike one in the morning. She had not moved from the spot on the bed, since throwing Joan and her family out of the chamber, staring hard at the painting on the wall. At first she had continued to cry as she studied the painted figures of Rachael and Leah, feeling that her world had collapsed around her. She had started the day with a bright future ahead of her-a future, she had thought she could only have dreamed of, but now it was all gone. The man she loved could not be hers, as she was still someone else's, whilst their child, placed in her belly in an act of love, had left her too-once again, she would have to rebuild from a mound of ashes.

But her tears had now long stopped tumbling from her eyes, as there was no water left in her for them to form from and her head, though throbbing from the fall, had started to think more clearly. Her heart was broken and it would never mend, but crying would not help matters. John was alive and she could not be Thomas' wife, as she was still the wife of another. She and Thomas had committed adultery, although unknowingly and now they could never be one. They must go their separate ways, for Lucy knew she could never rebuild her life with him around her. She was no dreamer, there was no fairytale ending for them, only a life of loneliness as neither could live in sin.

Lucy lied there, coming to terms with the life of solitude, not regretting the harsh words she had used on family and friend. Joan was still a child in many ways, her aunt had lived a life of being dominated and bullied, whilst her father, despite his love, was a man driven by grief over the death of her mother-and Lucy did not want to be that way, nor did any of them understand her pain...but there was one person who would.

Slowly pushing back the covers, Lucy climbed out of the bed and made her way towards the door. Her body still hurt with the bruises from the fall, but it did not matter, as she was too determined to feel the pain.

She did not cover herself, but continued to walk through the cold Palace in just her simply shift but it did not matter either, as Lucy could no longer feel the cold. Nor had she placed her shoes back on her feet, so as she walked out into the courtyard, snow and ice stung the flesh of her feet, though Lucy failed to feel it.

The wind was bitter, causing her shift to flutter violently in the breeze and its ice edge to bite her skin, though Lucy still did not notice-she just carried on walking, her destination in sight.

The chapel was empty, even the holiest of courtiers had long since retired for the night. The priest too had departed-not that Lucy would have noticed if she had company. The people of this world did not matter to her at this moment in time-the only company she craved was the Almighty, his son, the Saints and most of all, she craved the love of the Virgin Mother.

Candles lit the finely decorated chapel, eliminating the stain glass , shining bright colours around her despite the darkness, as the windows told the stories of the great book and saints. But Lucy did not care for Hagar, or St George, nor did she care for Susanna and her accusers or St Albans...there was only one soul, who she need to ask for them to intercept with God and easy her suffering.

Crossing herself as she reached the stature of Mary, she kneeled before it, her bruised legs stinging as they collapsed beneath her. Lucy went to put her hands together, but as tears once again began to fall from her eyes, she threw her arms around the stone legs of the Virgin, clinging to her and looking up at the beautiful painted face with a dishevelled look, as thought she was a small child clinging to her mother for comfort.

'_Salve, Regina, Mater misericordiae,_

_vita, dulcedo, et spes nostra, salve._

_ad te clamamus exsules filii Hevae,_

_ad te suspiramus, gementes et flentes_

_in hac lacrimarum valle._

_Eia, ergo, advocata nostra, illos tuos_

_misericordes oculos ad nos converte;_

_et Jesum, benedictum fructum ventris tui,_

_nobis post hoc exsilium ostende._

_O clemens, O pia, O dulcis Virgo Maria,'_

Her cheeks still wet with tears, Lucy uttered the word 'Amen,' before resting her head on the cold mantel and closing her eyes. But as the realm of night finally started to take her after such a difficult day, Lucy felt a strong presence around her, like an arm around her shoulder, reassuring her, that all would be well. Then as she started to drift off to sleep, the presence started to gather into a warm feeling in her belly as a familiar sickness started to return.

* * *

'The Dowager Princess of Wales, has kindly consented to you being given a place in her household at Durham House, until I can find a more permanent place for you outside of London,'

'Of course,' answered Lucy solemnly, staring up at the Cardinal, willing to agree to anything he would say if it made him leave the chamber as soon as possible, 'but what about my belongs?'

'I have arranged for your father and aunt to sort out your belongs and home,' replied Wolsey, looking at the girl, who despite crumbling to pieces yesterday, now seemed to be back to her strong, independent self-maybe the splitting up of her and Thomas would be as simple as he had originally hoped, 'this arrangement does come with conditions,'

'That I make no contact with Master More,' said Lucy, trying to hide her pain at no longer being able to see or speak with Thomas, as well as trying to suppress the nausea gathering in her belly, 'you have my word,'

Wolsey looked at her. She was still extremely pale, the lump on her head still very prominent but her face with set in a determined stance, the way it had been that day when she had first stormed into his office as a girl of eighteen, demanding help for herself and her then unborn child. She was tough, but could she be trusted?

'And I will give you my word, my dear,' hissed Wolsey, coming closer to the bed, which Lucy was still lying in, 'that if you ever try to write or speak with Thomas again, there will be no nice seamstress job waiting for you-it will be a life in Bedlam! Do you understand?'

'Yes,' said Lucy coldly as she stared straight into Wolsey's eyes, 'now if you don't mind, your Eminency, I would like to dress,'

'Of course,' smiled Wolsey, happy that he was finally back in control of things and left, but the moment the door shut and Lucy heard his footsteps disappear down the corridor, she jumped out of bed, pulled the chamber pot, (which she had hidden from the servants and Wolsey) and continued to be sick.

_Salve, Regina, Mater misericordiae,' _whispered Lucy, in between retching up the vile bile, but this time she did not complain; this time, as she was ill in the chamber pot, she had a smile on her face, '_vita, dulcedo, et spes nostra, salve'_

'I'm sorry,' suddenly came a sad little voice, causing Lucy to turn away from the chamber pot and find Joan standing in the chamber, with Tommy hanging around in the background, 'Christ, Lucy what's happened? Tommy get a physician,'

'No, it's alright, Tommy,' smiled Lucy as she motioned them to come closer to her, 'I'm sorry Joan, I didn't mean to be cruel-even though I do think you are making a mistake, but I will be there, the way I always am, for you,'

Lucy slowly got to her feet and the two old friends embraced, despite Lucy smelling of vomit, as Tommy looked on uneasy, wondering whether to leave as Lucy was still dressed only in her shift. But as he went to wait in the hallway, she caught his hand and pulled him to her and Joan.

'Can you bother keep a secret,' she whispered, letting go of both of them and placing both her hands gently on her fragile stomach, 'the child still grows,'


	21. Chapter 21

**First of all I'm really sorry with how long this update has taken, (me and More have had difficult last two months, which included having to read the world's worse book and a printer refusing to print an hour before essay deadline!) and I really hope this chapter makes up for it. Secondly as the next chapter is nearly finished, it should be posted by next week.**

**Big thank you to everyone for your reviews and/or for just reading this story. Also thanks to SSLE and MrsPhantomSylvia for your advice (Erasmus will be turning up soon)**

'Smile, Thomas,' hissed Sir John, out of the side of his mouth as he came to stand at his son's side on the steps of the church, 'you are getting married! Not being dragged to Golgatha!'

'I know, father,' said Thomas, quietly, looking down at the snow, focusing on its crisp whiteness, trying to forget the painful memories, 'I know,'

'John! Johanna!,' snapped Elizabeth, as she walked passed her two youngest siblings on the way to join Thomas and their father. On the night, when it was revealed that she would soon be an aunt, she had found herself warming to Lucy. Elizabeth deep down, admitted that the lower-born woman did make her brother happy, but when the news had reached them of Lucy marital status and the tragic death of the baby, she had found herself relieved. After all, what good was a little seamstress to a family from the aspiring legal classes, with land and property?, 'remember be happy. We do not want poor Jane thinking her wedding is a funeral!'

Both John and Johanna together glared at their sister with fixed, fake smiles on their faces, which caused their skin to sting in the early morning frost. Elizabeth met their glares and rolled her eyes at the wide, sarcastic grins on her siblings pale faces, as she realised it was the best show of affection she was going to muster from the family's youngest members. Besides this was not the place or time, as out of the corner of her eye Elizabeth saw Jane and her family arriving, for the tension that was simmering below the surface to erupt.

'Poor Jane,' muttered Johanna, pulling her furs tight around her as she made her way to church, stomping her feet as she went, 'ha poor Jane! What about poor Lucy?'

Johanna had loved Lucy. She was fun and sweet. Practical and helpful, with a beautiful face that could shine with confidence-she was perfect for Thomas and the family. And Johanna missed their chats-she had been so looking forward to having her as a sister. For Jane to Johanna, seemed to be a puppet, who other's had trained to walk and talk-she was not what Thomas needed. Not that Johanna had voiced her opinion, as Elizabeth and their stepmother had warned her to keep her jaw firmly closed, but it did not stop Johanna's blood from boiling. She knew her brother was not strong and deep down, Johanna had a feeling that he had not put up a fight for poor Lucy and the unborn babe that was tragically to die.

As Jane and her family approached, John did not move and just watched with glazed eyes. Why was Thomas the one who gained everything? If John had brought a girl home and announced that she was carrying his child, he knew his father would be less than accommodating-he would have thrown his second son into gutter. But with Thomas, even though it was sad what had befallen his brother, John could not help but feel bitter. Thomas was being rewarded for breaking the rules by being married off to sweet Jane. He did not love her-he still loved Lucy, though Thomas would always deny it. John loved Jane, they would be a better fit and he could give her the carefree life she craved, rather than a life full of books and learning. Jane was fragile enough without Thomas' troubles and Greek literature. John could have looked after her and he truly wanted to marry her, but second sons never got what they wanted.

'Poor Jane, poor Lucy,' he muttered bitterly under his lips and glared at his brother, whose mouth was fixed in a smile as he saw his bride approach, 'poor me,'

* * *

Lucy tied the ribbons of her dress and noticed that for the first time, she was having to wear her strings slightly looser than normal. After tying them in a firm bow, she placed her hands on her slightly swollen stomach and managed to smile as for the first time, as she saw with her eyes that she was still carrying her precious baby. The baby had been safe in her belly for almost three months and soon she would have to admit that she was still carrying the child created in act of love, but for now it would just be a special secret.

'It will be alright, my sweetheart,' Lucy whispered, holding her little belly, 'I will look after you. We will be alright, me and you, just you wait and see. We will have such a good life together, such fun. Just me and you...,'

As Lucy a spoke those words, she tried so hard not to cry. Her words were true-it was forever going to be her and the child, now growing inside her, it was the two of them against the world. But despite the fact it had been almost a month since she had lost Thomas, she still found it hard to believe, that she would never see him again.

'_And where did you get to last night, missy?' smiled Tasmin, chopping away at the vegetables, as she saw Lucy rush into Dogmersfield's kitchens with her pale cheek glowing red, 'poor Edward was so upset that he didn't get to dance with you,'_

'_Poor little lamb,' replied Lucy, reaching for a knife as she started to help Tasmin prepare the breakfast, but as she did so, she noticed a red mark appear on her bare shoulders and tried desperately to cover it with her loose hair, 'tell him, I promise to make it up to him, but I was feeling so unwell last night,'_

_Tasmin continued to smile as she went back to her work, trying her best not to laugh. Joan, however, was not quite so discreet and went over to Lucy, pulling back her friend's long blonde hair, revealing to all the redness of her lower neck._

'_So,' whistled Joan, 'what kind of illness needed your Master More to bite at your neck? Well, I know it weren't a headache. Mind you, I'm surprised you ain't got one after all that groaning and banging of the headboard,' _

'_Joan!' hissed Lucy, with a scowl on her still slightly flushed face, 'you had no right,'_

'_Oh! I didn't want to listen!' Joan teased, kissing her best friend on the cheek, before returning back to the apples she was peeling, 'I was just trying to find you, cause William said you'd been crying. You weren't in our lodgings, so I went to his rooms. Don't worry, I didn't hang around too long-I was just shocked that he had it in!'_

'_Oh, don't be saucy, Joan. Leave her be,' laughed Tasmin, going over to Lucy, whose bright blue eyes were now staring coldly at her best friend, 'she's in love...'_

_But before she could continue, Tasmin put an arm around Lucy's waist and led the younger woman out into the yard, where Tasmin's two children, Edward and Isolde were feeding the chickens. Little Edward, still upset that Lucy had not been at the party last night. scowled as he saw her._

'_Lucy,' said Tasmin softly, as she looked over at her children, 'I'm sure Master More loves you deeply and he does seem a kind man, but take it from someone who knows, love ain't simple, especially if you two ain't the same, if you catch my drift. What you two share now, can easily be taken away by those around you, leaving you alone and with a knife in your heart,' _

Lucy had laughed at Tasmin's words, before kissing her on the cheek, then going over to Edward so she could keep her promise of dancing with him. She was grateful for her friend's concern, but they were fears, built on the broken promises of Tasmin's life, not Lucy's. Thomas would never break her heart, the way that Earl's son had broken Tasmin's and he would never cause her hurt. He would look after her and the lives they would create together...

Tasting salt on her lips, Lucy tried to suppress the thought that Thomas would never hold their child. There was no point dwelling on what could never be. She had to think clearly, to make sure her she could gain from the Cardinal the best possible future for her child. She would have to smile and nodded her, as she danced to the Cardinal's tune and if that meant having to forget Thomas' existence, then it had to be done.

'Lucy,' whispered Joan, as she creped carefully into the chamber, with Tommy following close behind, 'you ready?'

'As I'll ever be,' answered Lucy, forcing a smile as she reached for her shawl, 'did you tell father and auntie about my secret,'

'Yes,' replied Tommy, shrugging shoulders as he leaned against the door, 'mother ran down to the church and lit every candle in the building, while uncle... well, it took me and three of his regulars to stop him from marching round to Master More's with his pistol,'

'This ain't Thomas fault,' sighed Lucy, so quietly that she thought no one could hear, 'none of this is Thomas' fault'

'Lucy,' said Tommy, knowing he had no right to speak thus, but sometimes, despite his age, he felt he was the only one in the family, who spoke any sense-well the only one bar Lucy, 'why don't you just tell him about the baby. He ain't going to kick you into the gutter, Lucy. He looked after you and the baby,'

Lucy smiled and went over to her young cousin and kissed on his pale cheek, as she pushed one of his wild black curls behind his ear. She loved her baby cousin. All the family, thought poor Tommy a feral child, who no one could control, but Lucy knew that the wild, young boy, who was often in fights, was more deeper than that.

'I know, he would Tommy and that's why I can't tell him. He'd drive himself mad with the guilt and I can't have him doing that to himself. Besides, all he could do is gives us money,' shrugged Lucy sadly, trying to not let the tears again fall from her eyes, as she had cried so much over the last month, that she felt that if she started again, she would never stop, 'and I don't want his money. All I want is...I can't have him around me, not now. Not knowing it can't be. Knowing that even to think of wanting him to hold me, will damn us both,'

An eerie silence fell among the small group and Lucy trying to stop her tears, as she went over to the bed and picked up the small bundle of belongs she had, before making her way to the door.

'Well,' she continued forcing a smile, to cover the pain as she felt as she remembered she could no longer cry in Thomas' arms, 'shall we go, can't keep the Dowager Princess of Wales waiting, can we?'

'Please don't go, Lucy,' pleaded Joan, suddenly grabbing hold her best friend's arm and squeezing it tight, 'I need you!'

'Durham Palace ain't far away, Joan. You can...'

'But when they send you away, what do I do after that!' Joan continued to plead, falling to her knees and wrapping her arms around Lucy's waist, weeping raw tears into the heavy fabric of her close friend's dress, 'how can I see you then? You can't leave me! I need you! I'll go mad if I can't see you! William was so cruel, when I told him there was no baby! He said I was an ugly, stupid mare, who wasn't even a good ride! And I know he's got a tart, like you said. I can smell her on him and some money gone missing-I should have listened to you, Lucy! I was so foolish! I thought he loved me!'

'Oh Joan, Joan, please,' gasped Lucy, trying to loosen her friend's grip on her expecting belly, 'please, Joan. The baby. Hush now. Come on, I need you to be strong,'

Joan let go of her friend and falling back on to her heels, as she wiped away her tears with the sleeve of her dress. She wanted to be strong. She wanted to prove to her dear friend that she did not need constant looking after, but it was no good. Her mother and father had always spoilt her, never forcing her to help out at home and always letting her have her own way. Then the Sweat had carried them off, leaving Joan with no option but to go to her grandparents, who were less than indulgent and forced her out to work and into the care of Lucy.

'But I can't get by without you,' she pleaded, looking up at her, desperately trying to stop her tears, 'please don't leave me with William,'

'Joan,' smiled Lucy, lowering herself to her knees. For the first time in a long while, Lucy felt briefly some peace. It was not that she wanted Joan to be unhappy in her marriage, but it was nice to feel wanted again, to feel someone in need of her love, 'it's just for a few months, then when they move me, you can come with. Then it will like it was before, when Georgie was alive. Just me, you and the baby. And we can forget about this place and William...and...and...'

Lucy felt the smile fall, as she finally said aloud the words that had been haunting her since that fateful December morn.

'and I can forget about Thomas,'

* * *

Standing in the corner of the room, Thomas watched as Elizabeth led his new wife around the large chamber, introducing her to his various relations and their father's friends. She kept blushing and staring at the floor every time someone new was introduced to her. Poor Jane. She looked so small in her pale pink wedding dress, decorated with tiny ivory peals, trying to be the perfect bride and make her new husband proud; but every time Thomas looked closely at her, he felt his heart crack as he realised that the pretty blonde bride was not the beautiful girl with the sparkling blue eyes.

'She seems very nervous,' came a voice in Thomas' ear, bringing him away from his thoughts, 'maybe she needs her husband,'

Thomas turned and found he managed a small smile as he saw that the voice belonged to his friend, Antonio Bonvisi, who (bar Erasmus), sometimes felt to Thomas, as though he was the only true friend he had. They seemed so different, so incompatible as friends. He was flamboyant and fond of the finer things in life, which the money from wine trade had brought him, unlike Thomas who seemed permanently torn between the two cities of St Augustine-but at that moment in time, he was Thomas' only ally. His father, step-mother and Elizabeth were constantly reminding him that his loyalties lied with Jane, whilst John and Johanna, who were both stood in the opposite corner, were glaring at him for forgetting that his loyalties lay with Lucy.

'Elizabeth is better at these thing than me,'

'Ah, but you forget, Thomas,' replied Antonio, grinning as he lent against the wall, 'I know how good a lawyer you can be,'

'Maybe,' shrugged Thomas, 'but not a good husband,'

'With time that will alter,' continued Antonio in his light Italian accent, 'you will just have to remember the girl you wanted, is not the one who now wears your ring,'

Looking at his friend, Thomas found it hard to keep the smile on his lips. He had not seen Lucy, since he had left her weeping on the floor, her arms wrapped round her expecting belly as she called him a coward. He was a coward but it was for the best, was it not? Holding her and telling her all would be well, would have been a lie. Staying with Lucy, knowing that being together would mean a life of more sin and end any chance of redemption. How could he consign Lucy to an eternity amongst fires? But then, he should have gone to her when they lost their child…their child…Lucy's belly would be showing the proof of their love now, if the baby had been consigned to limbo.

'You know,' said Antonio, placing an arm round his friend's shoulder. He could see that Jane was a sweet young thing, who would be the perfect wife, but he could also see, what most in the room were trying to ignore, that the groom was still in love with someone else, 'it is possible for someone to love two people,'

'But I…' started Thomas, but it would have been another lie if he had denied it. He thought of Lucy every day, since he last saw her. She was with him when he woke, to the moment he closed his eyes at night, but even in the darkness, she was still with him. He would feel her head resting on his chest and her arms around his waist. No matter how hard he prayed, Lucy still haunted him, 'it will change with time,'

'Perhaps,' smiled Antonio, patting his friend on the back, 'but I am Tuscan. Loving two people comes naturally to us,'

To Thomas' surprise, he found himself laughing at his friend's remark, but as Antonio went away to speak with Jane's father, Thomas felt the laughter go as his own father appeared at his side.

'On the whole, Thomas,' Sir John remarked, taking his oldest son by the arm and leading him into hall away from all the many guests, 'I believe that today has gone very well and because of that, I am proud of you,'

'Thank you, father,' replied Thomas, meeting his father's gaze, thought he found it difficult to hold.

'You could try smiling at bit more Thomas or the Colt's will start to think something is not right,'

'Yes. Sorry, father,'

Sir John looked at his son sharply and found that the annoying headache of his, returned. He had got his son to the altar and he had got him to say the vows that would bind him to Jane until God choose to part them-he should be celebrating. But instead, Sir John found himself torn in two. Thomas was his first born son, he was his favourite and he hated seeing the man, who usually wore a smile, walk around the house as if he was waiting his execution, but what good would it do. Lucy was still married, their baby dead-it was all the more reason to marry sweet Jane. Life did not stop because of tragedy in your life. When Agnes had died, John had still gone about his daily business, only altering his routine so he could attend the funeral. There was no point in wasting a good business opportunity and Jane was certainly that, even if he would have to be even harsher on his favourite son to stop him from ruining his chance.

'I know these past few months have been difficult for you Thomas,' he continued, trying to force authority into his voice as he head pounded, 'and you have done well in overcoming that 'unfortunate business,' but do you know what would be the perfect way to find peace and make amends with God?'

Thomas nodded his head slowly, knowing what his father was about to say. It was the thing he was most dreading since he had agreed to the marriage, but as the evening drew nearer, he knew he would soon have to face his fears.

'Good boy,' remarked Sir John, slapping his son on the back with such force Thomas stumbled forward, 'at least I do not have to explain to you how to get Jane plump,'

* * *

'Mother says,' said Jane, as she nervously played with the ribbons of her shift as her eyes looked down at the blanket's many patterns, 'I am not to complain if it hurts,'

Thomas winced as he heard her childlike voice and prayed under his breath as he undressed. He did not want to do this, but he had no choice. The small blonde creature, now lying in his bed, was his lawfully wedded wife, but nothing about tonight felt right to him. It felt wrong and dirty, as though it was a sin-yet it was all meant to be proper in the eyes of the Lord.

'I will not hurt you, Jane,' Thomas whispered as he sat down on the bed, 'maybe if you tried to think of other things,'

'Mother said I should lie back and think of fields of England,' Jane replied, with a little laugh as Thomas gingerly climbed into bed beside her, 'but I think I will think of the flowers in Kent, if it is fine with you?'

'Yes,' choked Thomas, wanting this even less than her, 'yes, that's fine with me,'

Jane nodded and the two of them laid down beside each other in the darkened bedchamber for awhile, not sure what to do next. Thomas continued to prayer, both under his breath and in his mind, wanting forgiveness and guidance in what had occurred and what was going to occur. The thought of it felt so wrong, as if it was a lie and it was a lie. He did not want this, he wanted someone else and the thought of having to make love to his wife, felt like he was betraying Lucy, but if he did not, he would be betraying God.

'Do I need to part my legs?' Jane suddenly asked in a whisper, taking Thomas away from his prayer.

'Yes,' answered Thomas, gathering whatever strength he could find, to move himself so that he was leaning over Jane, who still looked so small and fragile beneath him, 'yes it would,'

He kissed her on the forehead as he moved himself on top of her and she wriggled around, trying to find some comfort before the task she had to endure. Finally, after many fumbled attempts, Thomas started to pull up her shift, wincing as he felt Jane smooth, softy skin under his hands. It was not like Lucy's skin, which was soft, but with a rough edge to it, which made his body tingle. Nothing of Jane was like Lucy. Both where blonde and blue eyed but that was it. Lucy's hair was golden when it wanted to be and her blues eyes sparkled and dance, whilst Jane's was just plain. And they were different in mind and in body. Jane was a mouse and small in frame, but Lucy had the strength and courage and her body possessed curves made for kissing and caressing…

'Oh God,' moaned Thomas to himself, 'Oh God, Lucy!'

_His clumsy fingers had trembled more than usual as Lucy guided them to the ribbons of her dress. Just a few tugs of the ribbons was all that was needed for the dress to fall from Lucy's body, but Thomas found he need her help with the task. Many a night, he had pictured her in such a way, the images of them joined together had danced before his eyes. He had spent the nights trying to suppress such thoughts. But things were changing. Since that first time in the small double bed in the village inn, Thomas had found himself endlessly questioning the sins of the flesh. That first night the act had been clumsy, with him have to rely on Lucy to show him how to behaviour and act. Then later, he had needed Lucy's kind words to easy his troubled mind. _

_In the end, it only took one tug of Lucy's ribbons for her to become free of the tightly bound fabric, but as the dress, slowly creep off the tips of her shoulders and started to reveal more of Lucy's flesh, Thomas bite hard on his lip. He should be panicking, he thought, as his eyes caught sight of Georgie's rosary hanging around the base of Lucy's neck. He should come to his senses and prayer to God and Saints to deliver him from temptation...but Lucy was not temptation._

_Finding the courage, Thomas looked straight into Lucy's eyes and saw the fears he was feeling, reflected back at him, but within those perfect, sparkling blue eyes, Thomas also saw comfort and compassion looking back. Lucy loved him. She did not expect him to be anything but himself. She never forced him to be anything other than he was. He could tell her secrets, that he buried from others. He could tell her his fears, which he would discuss with a jest when speaking to others. In Lucy he had found the perfect friend and lover, who would soon to be his wife. _

'_Thomas,' Lucy whispered nervously as she leant forward, bushing her lips against his. She looked so beautiful, thought Thomas, as he welcomed her into his mouth, even more breathtaking as her dress started to fall away from her body, 'te amo,'_

'_Te amo,' replied Thomas, as they pulled away briefly, before returning to each other. This time, as their tongues became embedded deeper in each other's mouths, the fire which they had both ignored on their previous encounters, became lit._

_Still kissing, Thomas' pushed the remainder of Lucy's dress down her body, as she hurriedly pulled his shirt over his head, before both of them, returned their hands to embracing each other. It felt so good feeling other's flesh on their bare skin, that their arms pulled the other closer, so close that it almost hurt, but any amount of pain, was out done by pleasure and as was any notions of guilt in Thomas' mind._

_It was Lucy, who finally lead them to the bed, taking hold of Thomas' hand and guiding him to the still made bedstead. She laid down on the cool, woollen blanket, her long hair falling around her, as she pulled Thomas down on top of her. Both their breathing became heavy as they kissed again, their hands both falling on the tops of Thomas' breeches. There was nothing sinful now, everything felt so pure, as they both became equal._

' _Tecum vivere amem, tecum obeam libens,' whispered Lucy, before crying out her lover's name as they became one._

* * *

'_Lucy,' gasped Thomas, as his mouth roamed her neck and breasts, tasting lavender on his tongue and lips as he explored areas that he previously thought forbidden, 'Lucy,'_

_Lucy gasped and cried her responds as their sweat, glistening bodies moved in a perfect rhythm. The first time had been slight awkward, the other few times fun, but tonight, with the sticky friction of their bodies, it became the perfect pleasure._

'_Thomas,' moaned Lucy at the top of her lungs, as she threw her head back and her hips buckled against his, 't...e a...a...a...amo,'_

_Moments later, as Thomas felt his love's nails embed themselves and scratch his back, ripples of heart stopping pleasure shook his body and causing him to fill Lucy with warmth. _

Finally it was over and Thomas, biting on his lip, rolled off Jane as soon as the act was complete and buried his head in the cool, feathered pillow.

'God Lucy!' he moaned, the feathers muffling his cries from his bride, 'Lucy! Christ Lucy!'

_It had felt as if his body had been drained of life as he buckled and collasped on top of Lucy, whose moans were still escaping from her mouth. Their foreheads resting on each other, Lucy's long, now tangled hair, became stuck to both their bodies as they kissed, before Thomas went to move off of her. But as he did so, Lucy stopped him, wrapping her legs so tight around his waist, that he had no choice but to remain inside her. _

_'Please stay,' whispered Lucy with a smile, as she ran a hand down his hot face, 'I need you to stay,'_

_'Te amo,' replied Thomas as he kissed her gently on the lips, happy that Lucy wanted to remain as one for just a little longer, 'I will always stay with you,'_

'You know,' came a faint voice, which, though small, brought Thomas back to earth with a sudden cold, hard thump, 'it did not hurt as much as I thought,'

Turning out of the pillow, Thomas faced his wife, whose pretty face was slightly red and was smiling sweetly at him through the candle light. It was over now, there was no going back and maybe with God's blessing, there was still a chance for him and Lucy to enjoy the lights of Heaven.

'Good,' replied Thomas, kissing her on the forehead once again, before getting out of bed, pulling his night shirt down and going over to a pitcher of water, to pour himself a drink, 'good,'

'Do you want to again?' asked Jane shyly as she sat up in bed and watched Thomas gulp down his water. Despite the sharp early plain, it had started to feel nice towards the end and she was beginning to think she would enjoy her night time duty, 'Mother says it's your will,'

'No,' muttered Thomas, forcing a smile as he put his cloak round his shoulders and made his way to the door, 'you have had a busy day, you need to rest. I think I will sleep in the next chamber tonight,'

Jane went to object. She was scared of the dark and was use to sharing a bed with her sister, whose company always made the fears easier to bear, but before she could plead with Thomas to stay and keep her company, Jane found her new husband had gone.


	22. Chapter 22

**Big thank you for all my reviews and to everyone who is reading this story. I hope everyone is still enjoying it, as there is still a long way to go before we rejoin More on the scaffold. I hope everyone enjoys this chapter.**

**Quick note-The real Goodwife Giggs was Thomas and Jane More's neighbour and Margaret More's wet-nurse (although some historians have a different take on Margaret Giggs background). Originally I was going to stick with this, but decided that it was too cruel to have Lucy watching Thomas play happy families, whilst caring for his legitimate baby, so have come up with a completely different story for her. Also Erasmus will be arriving next chapter. **

Catalina de Aragon could not sleep, no matter how many times she closed her eyes and recited the _Pater Noster_, the way her mother had taught her as a child. The clock in the outer chamber struck three, but still her body was restless and her eyelids far from heavy as her mind was spinning with worries. Her former father-in-law had once again withdrew his favour and promises, leaving her with no option but to try and carve a life for herself and her ladies in this strange land, by surviving on her own wits. She had already started to sell some of her jewels so that she could feed her household and make sure they all had the basic comforts needed for life. Not that Catalina ever complained. After all it was the will of God that she should know great sorrow, for only through sorrow would she be worthy of the blessings of Heaven.

Wanting to feel the love of God and the Saints, she threw back the heavy blankets and slipped out of bed. She did not want to disturb her ladies, who were themselves plagued with many fears, so she did not slip on her shoes as she exited her chamber; only placing her cape over her cold shoulders as she crept out into the hall.

On tiptoes, she fled down the cold corridor to the house's chapel, craving the presence of God. It had been almost four years since she had last seen her beloved mother and even now, she could not rid herself of the loneliness, which came with the duty of being a Princess of Spain, so in times of trouble she fled to the only place in which she felt safety and love.

* * *

Stabat mater dolorosa  
juxta Crucem lacrimosa,  
dum pendebat Filius.

Cuius animam gementem,  
contristatam et dolentem  
pertransivit gladius.

O quam tristis et afflicta  
fuit illa benedicta,  
mater Unigeniti!

Slowly opening the creaking door, Catalina found that she was not the only one, who was in need of feeling reassuring love that night. Through the candle lit chamber, which made the place look even more holy than what it did in the cold light of day, as she heard the sorrowed filled whispers of a creature reciting the words of the _Stabat Mater Dolorosa. _

Crossing herself as she entered further into the chapel, Catalina silently listened to the mournful words and let her heart share the pain of their speaker. Too often in this world, we became obsessed with our own pain, forgetting that other were suffering as well, so hearing the cries, caused Catalina to remember that she was only one small creature on God's lonely earth.

Quae moerebat et dolebat,  
pia Mater, dum videbat  
nati poenas inclyti.

Quis est homo qui non fleret,  
matrem Christi si videret  
in tanto supplicio?

Quis non posset contristari  
Christi Matrem contemplari  
dolentem cum Filio?

Pro peccatis suae gentis  
vidit Iesum in tormentis,  
et flagellis subditum.

As she walked closer into the small chapel, Catalina saw that the voice belonged to the figure kneeling before the icon of the Blessed Mother. In the candle light she saw that the person had golden blonde hair, which came briefly illuminated in the flickering light and soon was understanding the reason for this woman's night time prayers. Continuing the down the aisle, Catalina joined her seamstress Lucy in knelling before the Virgin.

Catalina continued to remain silent as she let Lucy carry on with her words and instead choose to fix her eyes on her companion's rounding belly, which was now five months gone with child. It was a secret, the growing baby, one which Catalina had swore all those within Durham House to keep. But despite knowing who the father of unborn babe was, Catalina knew better than to ask after the circumstances of her seamstress unfortunate state. Nor had she approached the subject with Master More on the brief times she had seen him at court. For he seemed much preoccupied with Harry's education and how was she to meant to ask him, when she knew Master More had an expecting wife at home.

'Your Highness,' gasped Lucy, getting to her feet as quickly as her aching back would allow, 'I'm sorry, I didn't see you there,'

'Do not be sorry, Goodwife Giggs,' smiled Catalina, as she too got to her feet, 'it was I who interrupted your prayers. I hope you do not mind but those words are so beautiful,'

'Yes they are,' answered Lucy, trying to smile, despite the pain in her back, 'my mother taught me them when I was little,'

'My mother also taught me them too,' said Catalina, continuing to smile as she remembered happier times, before notice her companion's pain, 'please let me help you,'

'Thank you, Your Highness,' replied Lucy, as the Infanta helped her to the nearest pew, 'my back ache so much these days,'

'I understand,' agreed Catalina, though she did not, not really anyway. At that moment, as she saw the older woman place her hands protectively on her belly, she felt her heart sink. As the years passed and she was no closer to marrying the Prince of Wales, Catalina started to fear in her dark moments that she would never know the joys of motherhood, 'how is the baby?'

'It grows strong,' whispered Lucy, staring at her belly as she felt her eyes start to swell with tears, 'started moving a lot, keeping me awake at night. Would you like to feel it kick, Your Highness?'

Catalina nodded eagerly and let Lucy take her hand, placing it on her top of her solid belly. For a moment, she felt nothing, just a strange stillness, but then as Catalina started once again to reflect on motherhood, the baby kicked the spot vigorously and repeatedly, causing her to jump.

'So strong!' gasped Catalina with a laugh, 'it can only be a boy!'

'Thomas use to say it was a girl,' smiled Lucy, as she thought on those moments when it had just been the three of them-when they had celebrated the news in his office, when they had talked on the roof of the house, him holding her hair back as the baby caused her to be ill and that last, fateful journey to the Palace. That night and morning had been perfect bliss, which now seemed to belong to another life, 'perhaps he was right. I had a son once and he never kicked as strongly as this little one,'

'You have a son?' asked the Infanta, wondering why she had never heard of the child before, 'where is he? You should bring him here,'

'Thank you, Your Highness but his with the angels now,' whispered Lucy, feeling her burden return, 'God called my Georgie to him. Probably the best place for him really. Saved him from the mess I have now condemned my unborn babe to,'

Catalina did not know what had caused her seamstress to separate from the man she classed as a friend. Nor did she pass judgement on the breaking of God's laws, which Lucy's growing belly clearly showed they had broken, for she could not believe that someone as good as Master More would have broken them with any evil intentions.

'Perhaps,' she said carefully, looking at the Madonna and child, 'you should tell Master More about the baby,'

'No, no,' answered Lucy, shaking her head from side to side, 'no. It's better this way. He can live his life free from torment and guilt and I can give the baby the best life possible,'

'But I would think he has a right to know his child lives,' Catalina replied, taking hold of Lucy's hand and squeezing it tight, 'I think it is best for the truth to be spoken between those who once loved,'

'And you know what's best, do you,' snapped Lucy without thinking and knocking away the Infanta's hand. In her head it all seemed so perfect. Soon the Cardinal, who had yet to discover the truth about the baby, would find her a position away from London, where she could start again with her child, free from the hurt. But as the weeks went on, Lucy found her mind plagued with fears. What did she say when people asked after her husband? What did she say, when her babe was older enough to talk and wanted to know why it's Dada never kissed it goodnight and tucked it into bed? Did she lie to her child? Or did she tell it the truth, that it was conceived in a loving, yet sinful act? And amid all these unanswerable questions was heartache of missing Thomas, 'I'm sorry, You Highness. I just miss him so much, but I can't see him and he can never know. It will just bring us both more pain and suffering, something none of us deserve,'

* * *

'Thomas,' muttered Sir John sternly, as he glared at his oldest son, who was stood in the corner as though he was a taught schoolboy, trembling at the thought of receiving a beating, 'please just take the house,'

'Please Thomas,' pleaded Jane, who was sat on a chair by the fire place, holding tight to her mother's hand for comfort as she declared the baby was making her too sick to stand for too long, 'it's such a nice house and has a courtyard, so I can grow flowers. Please let's take it. I miss my flowers so much,'

Thomas stopped staring at his hat, which he was holding tight in his hands, and looked up at his young wife, who had just discovered that she was with child. She looked back him with her round, dull blue eyes, which reflected the sickness she was constantly feeling and looked like a scared child in need of approval. Jane was trying so hard to be the perfect wife, (though her attempts would usually end in tears), but all he could do was constantly feel the pain of her not being Lucy. He had been so relieved when the midwife had told him of Jane's condition, that within the hour, he had moved all his belongs out of their chamber.

'It is a lovely house,' added Jane's mother, looking at her son-in-law, as he went back to studying the rime of his hat, trying to figure out why he was being so reluctant, 'and perfect for raising a family,'

'I agree,' added Sir John, his voice still sharp as he eyed his son suspiciously. He knew exactly why Thomas was dragging his heels and was trying to control his angry, amid the pain of his headache. Thomas had wanted the house for that woman and their unborn child to live in. Her little house was placed right next to this larger tenement-they had planned to have the walls knocked through, but now the girl and baby was gone, with another girl and unborn child in their place. Thomas should be happy that he had been given another chance in life but every time John thought his son over his loss, something would happen that would bring Thomas back to thinking over that woman with the confident eyes, 'Thomas, you have already signed the lease, what does it achieve by breaking it now? You cannot continue living on my charity forever-you need a house and this is a house,'

'I need some air,' Thomas gasped feeling his throat starting to seal up as he felt all the eyes in the large chamber on him. He had thought continuing with his life would be easier than this, but as he hurried to the door, he recalled penance was not meant to be easy, 'I will be back in a moment,'

Jane went to say she would love to join him, but before she could say anything to her husband, he had left, shutting the door behind him. Looking down at her churning belly, she tried not to cry in front of her mother and father-in-law, as she started to realise that this was the constant pattern in her marriage. She knew she should not be hurt as her husband was not a bad man, he was always kind and gentle, refusing to use his legal right to beat her but at the same time, he was constantly distant and could not wait to be away from her.

'I am often told that your son is the most cleverest man in England,' remarked Jane's mother, squeezing her daughter's hand tight as she glanced at Sir John, 'yet, I fail to understand the title myself,'

'Believe me, my dear,' hissed Sir John lowly, 'you are not the only one,'

* * *

Thomas stepped out into the still chilly March air, but he did not stay in the London street for long. The street was full of people, as the market was in full follow with people buying and selling the goods from all over the globe and Bucklersbury was one of those places in the capital, which was always full of life, so no one noticed as Thomas slipped in the adjourning house.

The door had been left slightly ajar, meaning that there was no need to fiddle around with the bolts. Going into the kitchen, where he had spent almost every evening of August and September, he was struck by how bear the place now looked. It was stripped of belongs, everything was gone, ranging from the cooking pots and pans to the crucifix above the fire place, but the thing, which shocked Thomas the most, was the absence of Lucy's sewing basket. It was always kept by the rocking chair next to the fireplace, so seeing it missing, made the thought that she was gone from his life forever seem real, not just a night terror.

'Hullo,'

Thomas jumped as he heard the low, emotionless voice come from the staircase. He feared for a moment that it was Lucy's father, who hatred of Thomas was likely to have only increased after he broke his daughter's heart and caused their baby's death, but as he found the strength to face him, Thomas saw instead the youth who had been dragged to his house on that final morning, looking back at him.

'Hello,' said Thomas, finding his voice, 'it is Tommy, is it not?'

'That's right,' replied the scruffy haired youth, whose eyes were almost as bright as Lucy's, 'and ain't you the one who got my cousin with child?'

Thomas sighed heavy at the remark and had to steady himself against the wall. The words, so blunt, were completely true and the level, cocky way with which they were spoken, made Thomas feel even more guilty for the crimes he committed against his beloved Lucy.

'Sorry,' continued Tommy, coming further down the stairs, 'my mother says my sense of humour will one day get me strung up Tyburn,'

'You do not need to apologise, when you speak the truth,' whispered Thomas, noticing that Tommy was carrying a bundle of Lucy's things, 'how is she?'

'You know Lucy,' shrugged Tommy, 'she likes to show the world that she is as tough as old boots, but inside...'

'She is suffering,' Thomas finished his sentence for him, as he leant against the wall, before his legs gave way. The time when they had first met, he had helped Lucy overcome her pain at losing Georgie, but now he was the source of her suffering, 'I should never have left her,'

Tommy stomped down the rest of the stairs, his boots which were still too big for him, hitting the wood hard, as he kept his eyes on the figure in the small kitchen, who was leaning against the wall, with his shoulders hunched over and his lips moving feverishly and silently in prayer. They did not deal with emotions well in his family-his uncle, Lucy's father, was more than a testament to that and so was Tommy's mother, who liked to pretend to the world that she had the perfect family, when everyone knew that his father beat her as though she was a stray dog. No one ever talked of their pain, they just hide it from the world and carried on with a smile (and in his mother's case, with a black eye as well).

'She knows you had no choice,' said Tommy, uneasily as he joined Thomas in leaning against creaking wall, 'and don't worry, I'll look after her,'

'I'm sure you will,' smiled Thomas briefly as it was a relief to find someone to talk to, but soon he was back to knocking his head against the wall in despair, 'but it should be I who takes care of her...and our baby. Why did God have to separate us and take our child? Were our actions really so sinful?'

Tommy was not sure what to say to this comment from a man, who was almost a stranger. In his young life, he had learnt that it was best not to put too much belief in God being responsible for the events in your life-man was more often than not, the main culprit. But that being said, he had seen how much this man, who now seemed so broken, had love his dear cousin. When he had spied on them kissing in the hallway, he had seen that this man had altered something in Lucy. His cousin, whom he always saw as being a kind and strong woman, always giving him a place to hid when he fought with his father, had looked happier than she had in a long time. Her pale cheeks had been red and her eyes had sparkled more than usual, whilst an air of vulnerability was hanging around her-a sure sign of a woman in love. She had been so broken when Georgie died, that as he had watched the two of them embracing, he smiled at seeing the joy once again shine in Lucy's eyes. But now she was back to looking broken, with a strained smile-perhaps if she had more help in coping with her 'growing secret'.

'The baby...' Tommy started, but then stopped. He had swore to Lucy that he would tell no one outside their family about the child-she would never forgive him, if he broke her trust, 'I have to go,'

Tommy rushed past him and hurried to the door, but as he got to the threshold, he paused and turned back. Producing a small item from his pocket, he grabbed hold of Thomas' right hand and pressed a small sliver crucifix into it.

'It was Lucy's mother's,' he said as he turned back and rushed to leave, 'she'd want you to have it,'

And with that Tommy was gone, leaving Thomas alone in the bear little house, staring at the tiny sliver image of their Saviour dying for mankind. The room started to spin as, in holding the cross close to him, he caught the memorable smell of lavender, which always conjured up images of Lucy. As the lavender became embedded in his nose, his eyes stopped seeing the crucifix and started to see Lucy, standing in her kitchen, waiting for him. Her eyes lighting up as she saw him, then as she took hold of his hand before going for a walk around the city. He missed their walks so much. He missed their talks too but most of all he missed her. He was trying to make it work with Jane, but no matter how hard Jane seemed to try, it was not the same. She hated walking around London. Whenever they went out she would cling tightly to him, digging her nails in his arm and jumping whenever someone bushed against her. Thomas' attempts at talking to his wife about the things which plagued his mind, fared no better-in fact they were worse. She cried when he had tried to teach her Latin and Greek. Even his attempts at talking to her, about the place where everyone was equal, had resulted in Jane trying her best to suppress tears as she said repeatedly that she did not understand. Lucy had understood. She more than understood and wanted to share his ideas and dreams. She wanted to be part of the adventure, which was opening up Christendom to a brave new world. A world of education, philosophy, faith and equality. A world of light, after so many years of darkness. It was a dream Thomas had had since his days as a school boy at St Anthony's and Lucy wanted to share it with him...but Lucy was not his wife and was no longer part of his world.

Coming around from his thoughts, Thomas was once again faced with the cold reality of life. He was married to Jane, not to Lucy. Clasping the crucifix tight, he felt the melt dig into his flesh, as the truth of his life once again danced before his eyes. He had to resign Lucy to the past and place his attention in loving Jane. It was the only way. The only way he could make amends with God and get Lucy her place with the angels, when God decided to call her to him. He had to prove to God that he was truly repentant for his sins and if that meant creating a family, in the house originally meant for Lucy and their children, then so be it.

* * *

'Please, tell me you didn't say anything Tommy!' shouted Lucy, walking up and down her small room in Durham House with her hands wrapped around her belly, 'please God, tell me that Thomas still doesn't know?'

'Lucy, please sit,' pleaded her aunt, who was sat on Lucy's bed, sewing away at what was to be the family's newest member's first clothing, 'all this walking will do the baby no good,'

'I use to go to Eltham Palace everyday until I was eight months gone with Georgie,' snapped Lucy, as her stomach started to churn and her head started to pound, 'so don't tell me that pacing this room will hurt my child!'

'That being said,' replied aunt Dau, putting her sewing aside and grabbing hold of her niece's hand as she stormed passed, 'you getting yourself upset will do the poor little might no good at all! So sit!'

As she tugged on her hand, Lucy did what she was told and sat on bed. Despite her anger, she knew her aunt was speaking the truth. Her blood was boiling, in fear that her plans for her, Thomas and their child's future was now in ruins, but that being said, she did not want her anger to harm the precious child, which she had already thought lost once before. This baby was a blessing and nothing was going to cause her to lose it.

'I'm sorry, Tommy,' said Lucy, taking a deep breath as she rubbed her belly, 'just tell me that you didn't say anything about the baby,'

'No!' answered Tommy, sharply at his cousin lack of trust in him, but as he saw the grey circles around her eyes, he cursed himself for being harsh, 'no, I didn't tell him Lucy, but I think you need to,'

'No, no, no,' Lucy stuttered, trying not to cry, 'it's for the best. He can't know! He mustn't know!'

Tommy and his mother exchanged a worried looks as Lucy, who had been so strong over the last months, tried not to crumble before their eyes. At first, Lucy managed to keep her tears within, only letting out a small whimper but as the baby safely tucked away in her womb, started to kick, she broken down as she realised the full reality of her life.

'It's alright, my little lamb,' cooed Dau, throwing her arms around her niece's shoulders, 'just cry. You will feel better after a good cry, my little dear,'

'I can't sleep,' Lucy wretched as her aunt held her tight and gently rocked her back and forth, the way she had done when she was a child, 'I only eat because of the baby...only I can't keep it down. All I ever wanted was a family, but now...now the thought of giving birth terrifies me,'

'I know, my sweet,' her aunt whispered, running her fingers through Lucy's long hair, 'that's why you shouldn't do this by yourself. You need to speak to him, isn't that right, Tommy?'

'Yes,' echoed Tommy, rushing towards his mother and cousin, taking hold of Lucy's hand, 'not just for your sake but for his. He looked more like death, than you do,'

Hearing Tommy's words Lucy found her tears start to stop as his voice echoed through her mind. All this secrecy was meant to protect Thomas from pain and suffering, not increase his hurt. By keeping his child away from him, she was meant to be saving him from this ,so he could have a good life, free of blame but if he was still in pain, maybe it would be for the best if they shared their hurt. Maybe the sharing of their burden, would ease their suffering?

'But I gave the Cardinal my word,' she sniffed, remembered the threats of Bedlam-that was no place to have a child, assuming that the Cardinal would let her keep the baby, 'if I contact Thomas, I will lose any chance of being able to give my child a good life. Lord knows the Cardinal doesn't like those who cross him-he might take my baby from me all together!'

'And if you carry on like this, you might lose the child anyway!...Besides,' smiled Tommy, leaning in close and winking with one of his sparkling, mischievous eyes, 'you only swore that you wouldn't have contact with Master More but the Cardinal didn't mention anything about me not speaking to him,'


	23. Chapter 23

**Thank you for all my reviews and to all my readers. I really hope everyone enjoys this chapter and that my playing around with **_**Utopia **_**works. **

Tommy had watched Eltham Palace for several days, before deciding that the time was right to approach Thomas. He had seen him several times, from his watching post by a group of ancient trees, noting in his head the times when Thomas arrived and left, as well as the times when he was wandering around the Palace and its grounds by himself. Tommy had no qualms about approaching Thomas in front of others-after all, all he had to do was hand him a letter, but Lucy had insisted that Tommy had to see her former lover completely alone.

Looking up at the middle window, Tommy saw the brief outline of Thomas,walk-by with another figure, whom Tommy guessed to be the young Prince. They stopped and briefly talked by the glass before carrying on with their journey- they had done the same every day since Tommy had started watching them and also at the same hour; and every time, it made Tommy laugh slightly to think that a member of his family, who were usually in and out of the law courts most days, (even Uncle Geoffrey had found himself in goal once, for watering down his beer-but had successful managed to hide the information from his daughter), had been got in trouble by someone so close to the Royal Family. Not to mention the thought, that had things gone to plan, his family and the Mores would be sharing the same table at Christmastide, followed by the Mores finding that their family silver missing, because his family had departed from the house with it hidden amongst various article of their clothing.

But laughter aside, though Tommy, leaning against the tree, it was sad what had befallen his cousin and that man. Lucy, more than any member of the family deserved happiness, especially after everything she had had to deal with John and Georgie, ('why God did that sweet little boy have to die and that bastard live!'); and despite his uncle's random hatred of Thomas, Tommy could see that he would have given Lucy the love and happiness she deserved.

Soon, Thomas would be walking out through that side-door alone and strolling around the Palace gardens by himself, whilst continuingly looking over his shoulder, as if he was constantly expecting someone to join him. Perhaps he was, though Tommy. He seemed to be someone who would allow the past to haunt him-perhaps he was still waiting for Lucy to join him. Only today he would not be alone, as he would have Tommy for company.

'What's your game then?' came a stern voice in Tommy's ear, as a strong hand clamped itself down on his shoulder, 'not wanting to pick off some red roses, I hope?'

'You what?' answered Tommy, in that south of the river drawl of his, before he realised what the scarlet clad guard was getting at, 'oh, you think I'm a traitor. Well, do I look like a traitor?'

'You look like a lowlife dog, whose has been beaten once too often,'

'Yeah,' replied Tommy with a cocky grin as he tried to wriggle free, 'living with my brute of a father will do that to you. You should see the state of my poor mother, after one of his drinking bouts. Now get your hands off me, I'm waiting for a friend!'

'And what kind of friend is that,' barked the man, tightening his grip on Tommy shoulder, 'the kind that want to plant some white roses in with the red…George, we have a trouble maker here. Come and help me!,'

'White roses in with the red! You know that doesn't even make sense!' shouted Tommy, as another man grabbed hold of his other arm, 'unhand me you bastards! My friend knows the Prince and my family are on very close terms with most magistrates in London!'

* * *

'Now when I see a youth of your low birth, hanging around the Palace, do you know what I think?' said Wolsey, sitting down opposite Tommy, who had been dragged kicking and shouting into his chamber's, 'I think that I have a silly boy on my hands, who is either begging from the kitchens or seeking employment. When he comes back the second and third day, I think the lad is persistent, but when he comes again on the fourth day, I start to think that all is not well. Now, lad, what is your game?'

'No game,' shrugged Tommy, knowing the best way to get on with his mission was to play the innocent with the Cardinal, then try and track down Thomas, 'just boredom,'

'Now you see, I do not believe that,' replied Wolsey, his fingers tapping hard on the polished surface of his desk. Something was troubling him about this youth, something in his presence was making him feel uneasy. It was not simply that the boy seemed to possess no fear, when the Cardinal's presence usually brought grown men to their knees in fright, but there was something in the youth's shining blue eyes, which seemed to signify something of importance, 'do I know you?'

'I don't think you do,' returned Tommy with confidence, for he had learnt a long time ago that the ability to serve any difficult situation, depended on your capacity to believe in and convince others with your words, 'and I don't know you,'

'Where are you from?' eyed Wolsey suspiciously, as he felt in his gut that something was not right with this troublesome, bright eyed youth.

'Where am I from?' echoed Tommy, placing a finger against his cheek as if deep in thought, 'I'm from Putney, but I might be from Derbyshire. Then again, I might be a simple soul, who got lost on his way back to his home in Flanders,'

'Putney,' muttered Wolsey as the mystery started to unravel, as he recalled another who was from the south side of the river and who possessed the most stunning blue eyes, 'we use to have a seamstress from Putney. Good, hard-working girl, but the poor thing made a silly, foolish mistake and got herself in deep trouble,'

'She made no mistake,' answered back Tommy, with a shout as his mouth did not give his mind time to reflex on what he was doing. Lucy was the good one, who deserved a chance at the easy life more so, after what had happened to Georgie. Tommy could still remember that horrible day; his uncle, mother, sisters and Joan all sat in the kitchen trying to comfort Lucy-except Lucy had not cried. In fact, she had made hardly any noise as she just sat there, her hands holding on to Georgie's best jacket. The only noise she made was to continually whisper something about apples, in a haunting tone, which broke Tommy's young heart. After that pain, Lucy had earned the happiness with the man, whose child she was carrying and Tommy was not about to let anyone say otherwise, 'she fell in love with someone who fell in love with her! She did nothing wrong! Lucy has never did anything wrong!'

'I see. Except your dear cousin has done something very wrong. Your sweet Lucy promised me, she would have no more contact with Master More and she knew very well what would happen to her if she went back on her word. I guess Master More was the friend, who you mentioned to the guard. Now tell me the truth, has your cousin, Goodwife Giggs persuaded you, to take a message to Master More?'

Under his breath, Tommy cursed himself for giving the secret so easily away. He would have to do better in the future and not let his temper get the better of him-after all, any situation could be easily and better handled, if one was cool of head. However, despite his disappointment at his foolishness, Tommy knew that Lucy, whilst her secret was about to revealed to a man she hated, was safe. He had only been with the Cardinal for a few moments, but Tommy could see that the man dressed in scarlet was a man of his word. If he had not been, if this Cardinal Wolsey had been built in same model as Tommy's father and Lucy's husband, he would have simply had Tommy beat black and blue, whilst trying to get information from him-but Wolsey had not. He was still sat there calmly, as if deep in thought and whilst Tommy knew you could not always trust appearances, he knew he could keep Lucy safe from Bedlam. After all, she had not come herself to see Master More and the letter was written in the hand of the Dowager Princess of Wales, not by Lucy. Tommy could easily plead her innocence.

'Of course, she didn't,' answered Tommy, reaching for the letter and placing it on the table, 'my Lucy never breaks a promise. If you must know, it was all my idea to send this letter,'

'And it seems the former Princess of Wales took the time to pen this love note,' said Wolsey, cracking open the seal and glancing at the words, written in a beautiful broken English. He read it with a smile at first, reflecting on how women, no matter how tough they wished to appear to the world, always in end, let their heart constantly rule their head. But as he came to the last lines, he felt a chill run down his spin, 'what news?'

'News?'

'Yes, news,' continued Wolsey, his eyes narrowing on the young man, who he could see possessed not only a very protective loyalty, but also an intelligence and cunning far advanced for his years, 'at the end of this charming letter, the Dowager Princess remarks that Goodwife Giggs has some news for her former lover. What news would that be?'

'It is not mine to tell,' shrugged Tommy, knowing that it was best for the Cardinal to see Lucy's 'news' himself, 'though, I think once you see her, you'll understand why we did what we did and you will forget any idea of putting her in Bedlam,'

Tommy got to his feet, certain that he would be free to go, though he was not sure where to go, for he could not return to Lucy, as he felt that he had in away betrayed her. He had promised her that he would not get caught, but while he was sure that Wolsey would not be cruel to her, Tommy knew it was not going to help her fragile state of mind.

'Before you go,' called Wolsey, stopping Tommy in his tracks, as he got to his feet, 'what is your name?'

'Why do you want to know that?'

'Because,' answered Wolsey, placing a hand on his shoulder, 'despite the fact you are very rough around the edges, you remind me of a younger me. You are clever, very clever and you have the ability to not only use it, but to see into all areas, not just the black and white. And above all that, you are extremely loyal,'

Tommy shuffled uncomfortably for a moment, trying to decide whether to speak the truth. No one, bar Lucy, every gave him complements, but this man was a complete stranger still, who held his cousin's fate in his hands; but because of that, he decided it was better to speak the truth, least he cause more trouble.

'Tommy Cromwell. My name's Tommy Cromwell,'

'Well, Tommy Cromwell, curb that sarcastic tone of yours and you will go far in this world,'

* * *

'Where is she, Your Highness?' asked Wolsey as he bowed to the Dowager Princess of Wales. However, the briefness of his bow and the hardness of his voice, caused the daughter of Isabella to wrinkle her nose at the sight of him, as his dismissive attitude to her, confirmed her fears. At least when the King treated her in such as manor, she could excuse him with the notion that he was God anointed, but this man, in Cardinal's clothes was someone who show no respect for majesty and God, only for his own materialistic aims, 'and do not lie to me, Princess or pretend innocence, for I know all about your little secret,'

For a moment, Infanta Catalina de Aragon, did not give him her full attention, put continued with a her tapestry, which was to picture the moment her namesake announced to her pagan parents that she would only marry a someone, who surpassed her in beauty, intelligence and innocence. Therefore, on the outside, she displayed her usual cool, obedient nature, but inside she felt the fires rage. It was meant to have been a private letter, an inception for two people in need of comfort from one another at this difficult time-it was not and was never meant to be the business of the man, who only cared about his own ambition.

'My little secret?' repeated Catalina, placing her sewing to one side as she acknowledge her guest, 'I thought in England, one had no secrets, Your Eminency,'

'Oh but I think you do, Your Highness,' continued Wolsey, trying to read what lay behind Catalina's neutral expression, 'or are you often in the habit of writing letters on behalf of common seamstress to their former lover?'

'It was a letter to a friend on behalf another, who is in desperate need of some comfort,' answered Catalina, still without a hint of emotion as she got to her feet and advanced towards the Cardinal, 'and may I remind you, of whom you are speaking to in such a rude manor,'

'Do you know he is married? Do you know that so is she?' said Wolsey, raising his voice as he met the Infanta's advancement, hoping that he could force the young woman to back down, but she did not and they stood almost face to face, both with their hands on hips, 'Do you know that more than once, they crossed the line in what is proper? By bringing them back together, Your Highness, you will be an accomplice in their sin and I do not believe that you would want that on your conscious, nor would you want me mentioning it to the King or worse still, to the Queen Mother. I do not think either would take to kindly, to your meddling, especially given how low Master More is held in the King's affections,'

Catalina went to reply, but he had her trapped. He knew that she believed it was her destiny to be Queen of England and he also knew that the current ruler of this green isle, had a very low opinion of his former daughter-in-law, who, at that moment, he was not wanting anywhere near the crown once worn by his deceased wife.

'Her Highness is innocent,' came a voice, breaking the deadlock, 'I forced her to write the letter. She told me it was a mistake but I insisted,'

Wolsey turned and saw that the source of all his troubles had slipped into the chamber. He turned and faced her with a grin, not surprised to find her face fixed in the same sharp stare, which she had worn on their last meeting. But one thing he was shocked by, was that despite the cuts and burses missing from her face, she looked worse for wear than she had done after her fall, her skin being almost translucent as she stood there, with a heavy shawl covering her dress as she shivered.

'You swore to me that you would stay away from him,' said Wolsey, turning away from the Infanta, 'that you would not even try and write to Master More,'

'And I didn't. I hadn't,' returned Lucy, easing herself down into a nearby chair, trying to hide the cause of her backache a little longer, 'her Highness was kind enough to write the letter and my cousin delivered it or tried too. I just told the Princess the words,'

'Your cousin said almost the same' muttered Wolsey, his head starting to ache as he ran a hand over his troubled brow, 'have I not been kind enough to you? Have I not helped you enough? Do you know, if you had got yourself in trouble with any other man, you would have been left to rot in the gutter with only a few extra coins for company?'

'I know,' whispered Lucy as she felt her and Thomas' unborn kick the side of her belly vigorously. She wanted to place her hand on her belly, to reassure her child that everything would be well, but she had to hold off a little longer, 'and I realise I am lucky. I've been at the Palace since I was an innocent girl of fifteen and I know what happens to girls in trouble,'

'You know,' said Wolsey, walking over to where Lucy was sat, still wrapped in her shawl, despite the chair being so close to the fire place, 'when ever Thomas defended you to me, the one thing he always said, was how clever you were, yet you broke your word-remember what I said about Bedlam,'

'But you won't send me to Bedlam or any other Godforsaken place. For no matter how much I hate you, I know you won't cause me any harm,'

Taking a deep breath, Lucy got to her feet. Placing her hands on the small of her back, to support herself, Lucy let her shawl fall to the ground, revealing to Wolsey that the baby, which his physician had told him was dead, was very much alive and growing. As she finally managed to stand up straight, Lucy ran both her hands over her growing belly, emphasizing her condition, but mainly to reassure her child that all would be well.

'What is that?' asked Wolsey, his voice shaking as he pointed a finger at Lucy's stomach, his mind racing as he saw his straight forward plan come to ruin.

'It's the child, that your physician thought dead,' smiled Lucy, as she felt her child once again kick, 'only its very much alive,'

'No. It is dead! Whose child is that?'

'Even great men get things wrong,' replied Lucy, holding her belly tighter, 'and you know very well who the father is. That there was never anyone else. It was just Thomas and only Thomas,'

Trying to remain strong, Lucy forced herself to suppress her heartache, that the man with whom she had created the child with in a moment of tenderness, was not at her side to reassure her.

'Would you like to sit?' said Wolsey with a surprising amount of warmth as he saw the trouble Lucy was feeling, show itself on her face. After a moment, silently Lucy nodded her answer, then jumped as she felt her enemy's arm around as she lowered herself back into the chair, 'I guess then, Goodwife Giggs, that this was the important news, which you wished to inform Master More,'

'I...'started Lucy, confused by this display of kindness, 'he has a right to know,'

'Yes he does,' smiled Wolsey, taking hold of her hand. He was not surprised at the amount of guilt he felt deep down for creating this heartbreaking situation, but at the same time, he knew he had to see this through-things had gone too far now, to reverse his plan, 'but my dear, you have to understand that things are very delicate. Master More is married now, with a baby on the way, it would not be fair to ruining everything for him,'

'Married,' whispered Lucy, trying to stop her tears. She always prided herself on being strong and practical, no matter how difficult the situation and she knew, that Thomas' father was not going to wait around, once his son was free again to marry whom his family wanted, but the baby was making her weak and the heartbreak of hearing about her former lover with another, was unbearable.

'I am sorry, my dear, but it is true,' reassured Wolsey, 'as it is also true that I know you love and care for him very much. Therefore, you know as well as anyone how news like this is likely to drive him to the brink of madness with guilt. So I think its best, that we keep this news from him, don't you agree?'

'I...I...,' Lucy stuttered as she tried to find the right words. She wanted Thomas to be happy and she knew, that the news of her still carrying their child would do to him. Lucy knew only too well, how hard the guilt of sin would be on Thomas' shoulders, that's why she had refused at first to tell him, but then what of her. The pain and loneliness was eating away at her, causing her to feel constantly sick and for sleeplessness to plague her nights-things that were doing the baby no good. But Lucy knew too, that if the sickness she felt caused her to lose the baby, she would be in a worse state of grief than what she was suffering already; at least as long as she had the child, she still held a little bit of Thomas and the happiness of those few months together, 'I want him to be happy, but what about me? And remember your Eminency, it is not just me we have to worry about? I need help. I can't do this by myself,'

'Oh, I think you can, my dear,' said Wolsey, glancing over at the Infanta, who looked on with a mixture of suspicion and worry, 'I think you just need to see that you can and that it would be best if you had no contact with Master More, that it will only cause you both more hurt. Now, I think the best thing is that we move you to some place in the country...still near London, so your family can visit, but far away enough so that the memories of the past cannot continue to haunt you...'

Lucy continued to listen to the Cardinal words but gave up trying to speak. She just sat in her chair, holding the Dowager Princess of Wales hand as she nodded her head in agreement to the Cardinal. Hating to admit it, she knew he was right. It had been a foolish plan to try and speak to Thomas. Although it had been done for the best of intentions, she should have just left things be. Got on with trying to raise the baby by herself, learning to suppress her heartache and turn the pain, into loving their child; after all, her love and care would have to make for the lack of he or she having no father.

'I should have told you,' whispered Catalina mournfully, after Wolsey had left the two of them alone, 'forgive me and please believe me, when I say that I do not believe him to be happy,'

Lucy smiled and kissed her hand, forgetting briefly that her companion was of Royal blood and that she was just the daughter of an innkeeper. For a moment, she saw Catalina in the same model as Joan, Tasmin, Tommy and the rest-as a friend, trying to make her feel a glimmer of hope in what was a desperate situation. But it made very little difference now, if Thomas was happy with his marriage or not, and Lucy very much doubted that he was, but penance was not meant to make one happy. Maybe that why the pain of heartache was so strong. Lucy did not believe that her and Thomas were at fault, for both had believed that her husband to be cold in the ground, but they had still broken God's laws-maybe he was still requesting a penance for the naivety of his children.

'Thank you, Your Highness,' said Lucy, getting to her feet, 'but whatever Tho...Master More now feels, me and him must go our separate ways. It's God's will and we must learn to live our lives by it. Thank you again for all for kindness, Your Highness, but now I think it's time I did as the Cardinal bids and leave the city. Perhaps the country air will do me and the baby some good,'

* * *

'Dear Thomas,' called Antonio, as he breezed into his friend's study with such force that he almost sent a stack of books, piled high so dangerously near the door, flying as his foot caught the edge of mound, only to the knock another stack over, 'goodness, your study is a death trap! It makes Smithfield look like's the Paradise of Eden,'

'It is the sign of a well organised mind,' smiled Thomas, putting aside his writing as he watched his friend, navigate his way through the masses of classic books, then causally lean on the edge of his desk, 'I trust you have not come all this way to tell me, I need to hire a new housekeeper,'

'Your powers of deduction are as amazing as ever, my friend,' laughed Antonio, picking up a copy of _Canzoniere_ and running a finger up and down the cracked spin, 'you should not be reading such thing given your situation. How is your charming wife? She was not here to greet me,'

Thomas looked his close friend up and down, not knowing how to read this remark but then Antonio did always have a unique sense of humour. Perhaps that's what made their friendship work, as they could bounce their comments off one another, but despite this closeness, Thomas still felt, that although Antonio knew all about what had passed with Lucy, he found that he could not still disclose the true secrets of his heart.

'Jane has gone to stay with her parents,' answered Thomas, the smile having gone from his lips. Life with Jane had not gotten an easier as the months slipped by. The baby was making Jane constantly sick and more prone to fits of tears than usual. He wanted to be the good husband and father, but no matter how hard he tried, nothing seemed to work. He and Jane shared no interests, their talks were always difficult, with tears on Jane's face as she repeated whispered that she "did not understand," and she never seemed at easy in London, refusing to go out alone. So when her mother suggested she take Jane back to their country home for a few days, Thomas had, guilty, been relieved, 'the baby is causing her some discomfort,'

'Is she still crying?' asked Antonio, the jokey tone gone from his voice, 'perhaps, my friend, and do not take my words as a criticism, you should begin to see that your poor wife, through no fault of her own, is not your Laura,'

Looking away from his friend, Thomas turned to look out of the window and watch the sun started to set over the busy city. His eyes dancing across the still hectic street of Bucklersbury, with its many tenements and shops, stopping when he spotted the young husband and wife, who now rented Lucy's little house. Thomas had seen them a few times over the past couple of months and despite seeing them row once, they always looked so in love. The woman was expecting, her belly growing a little more every time Thomas saw her and currently as she walked down the street, her husband had one hand placed protectively on her belly, while the other was around her waist, holding her close to him. Their heads bent towards each other as they talked and walked, Thomas felt his heart fill with a mixture of jealously and regret. It should be him and Lucy walking down the street, looking so in love. It should be him patting his child, which was tucked away within its beloved mother's womb. Only it would never be, but maybe if he stopped imagining what life with Lucy might have been like, he could have all that love with his lawful wedded wife...but then again...

'Again, Antonio,' continued Thomas, trying to force a smile, 'I do not think you have come here to discuss something which I have consigned to the past,'

'Whatever you say, Thomas,' said Antonio, once again weaving his way through books to the door, 'anyway, I thought you could do with some cheer, so I have brought you a present,'

'Antonio how long are you keep me waiting in this gloomy hall,' came a familiar voice, which Thomas had not heard in a long time, 'honestly, you Tuscans have worse manners than the English,'

'Erasmus?' asked Thomas, feeling a smile naturally appear on his face for the first time in months.

'The very same,' replied his old friend, coming into the study, still wrapped up in his many layers of furs. He looked at Thomas with a wide grin, as he pulled his cloak tighter around him, as he felt the cold, which only he could feel, bite at his bony body, 'by God, I do not know how you English can live in these draft ridden houses. If it is not too much trouble, my dear More, could you light a fire, before your old friend dies of the cold,'

* * *

'I think I should chide you, my dear More,' smiled Erasmus as the two of them sat by the fire, (Antonio having left them on account of some business across town), but as he took a sip of wine, he wrinkled his nose as he tasted the sour liquid on his thin lips, 'for you have neglected your friend...Dear God, I have forgotten how vile the taste of English wine is. Honestly, it is like drinking the from the bowls of Hell,'

'You get use to the taste,' said Thomas, with a small shrug of the shoulders as he sat back in his chair, feeling relaxed for the first time in many months, 'besides, I believe you do English wine and myself a great disservice. I have been far from amiss when it comes to you, for have my letters not always found their way regularly to your hands?'

'But it is not your letters, which have been missing,' continued Erasmus, deciding that he had had enough of English wine, so he placed the goblet down by his chair, 'rather it is their contents that have been somewhat lacking, as though the author's mind has been on other things,'

'I cannot say I know what you mean,' answered Thomas, feeling body once again tense up, 'what has Antonio been saying?'

'He has told me nothing, only that he worries for your state of mind,' said Erasmus, lines of worry on his brow as he turned to look at his friend, whose young features seemed to have aged in the evening light, 'and so do I. Your letters have since August have been full of distractions as though your mind has been far from the great Utopia and the past few months they have read as if you are weighed down with troubles. It is not right to close your mind, for it will torment you until one day...'

'Utopia,' interrupted Thomas, getting to his feet as he felt nausea gather in the pit of his stomach. The last time he had spoken to anyone about the 'nowhere' place, which he had created in his mind, when he was a page at the house of the great Cardinal Morton, he had been lying on the grass by a stream in Hampshire, letting the passions of his heart take over his mind and body, 'Utopia is lost,'

'_Can you imagine,' sighed Lucy, turning to look at Thomas, as she lied down on his cloak as they were sat on the hill by the small stream, 'what the Utopians would make of the Cardinal and all his pomp,'_

'_Lucy!' replied Thomas, trying to hide his laughter as he looked over at his bride to be, and watched as she unpinned her hood and let her hair fall down around her shoulders, the bright blonde mixing well with the oranges of autumn, 'you should not say such things,'_

'_Why not? It's true. You'd think he was the Pope himself, the way he carries on,' Lucy teased, sitting up, taking hold of Thomas hat and popping it down on her head, before throwing her arms around him, 'and don't try and play innocent with me, Master More, I know you are thinking the same,'_

_Thomas laughed as he turned to face Lucy, placing an arm around her shoulders and pulling her against him. He should not feel this way. He had, up till now, thought it wrong to throw away the hours of the day on leisure, but with Lucy, all thoughts seem to change. Besides with Lucy, he could be himself and talk of things, which others would roll their eyes at or would simply remind Thomas, that his head was far too much in the clouds. _

'_And you have a window to look into others minds?' smiled Thomas, pushing a strand of Lucy's hair behind her ear, then letting his thumb stroke her pale pink cheek._

'_Only when it comes to you, Master More,' she whispered, placing her lips on top of his, 'only when it comes to you,'_

_They kissed very lightly and slowly, their lips taking in every ounce of each other's, before pulling away only when they had enough._

'_Do you know your eyes sparkle?' said Thomas softly as he continued to run a finger down the side of Lucy's cheek, 'it is all I can think about sometimes,'_

'_Are you trying to flirt with me, Master More?' smiled Lucy, looking up at Thomas from under her eyelids as she rested a hand against his chest, 'and there was me thinking you were not like other men,'_

'_I mean it Lucy,' insisted Thomas, gently guiding Lucy's face so that her eyes were now staring straight into his, 'ever since the night I returned Georgie's rosary, the way your eyes dance haunt my dreams,'_

_Still with a smile on her lips, Lucy once again leaned forward and kissed Thomas on the lips, as she let her hands unbutton the top of his doublet and then loosen the top of his shirt. _

'_Lucy...'_

'_I want to see if our hearts beat in time,' she replied, placing her hand on the spot where she felt his heart thud against his chest, 'my eyes may sparkly, but they're not like yours, which seem to see things, that others miss...yes we do beat in time,'_

_Thomas breathing became heavy and fast as he felt Lucy's hand at the top of his chest. It made him nervous, despite the fact they had shared two nights together, which had helped to make their bodies more at ease, but Thomas could not help but find his mind race as he felt her skin on his; the guilt of intimacy did not just suddenly go._

'_Lucy, its just a mere biological fact,' smiled Thomas nervously, as he took hold of her hand and pulled it gently away, 'nothing mystic,'_

'_So you are not romantic after all,' laughed Lucy, kissing his hand, 'tell me, Master More, what do the Utopians feel about love and marriage,'_

'_Well,' answered Thomas seriously, looking straight into Lucy's eyes, 'they believe that society can only function if the couple bound together in God's sacred union, completely love, trust and understand each other. Only when two people share the same heart and passions can society function in harmony,'_

_Thomas was not sure how it happened, as within moments of him speaking, he and Lucy had once again started to kiss-only this time they did not stop. Their hands clawed at each other, crushing their bodies hard against one another, as their tongues buried themselves deep in each other's mouths. For a few moments they broke away, but it was not to stop. With heavy breathing, their mouths once again found one another, as Thomas pulled Lucy on to his lap._

'_We should stop,' he gasped, his mouth pulling away, only his hands remained in place, caressing Lucy's clothed body as he felt a familiar warmth gather around his lower back, 'someone might see,'_

'_No one comes here,' replied Lucy heavily, as she leant forward to kiss him, finding his protesting lips very welcoming. Heat was gathering in the bottom half of her spin, causing her legs to have a mind of their own as they wrapped themselves around Thomas waist , 'that's what Joan said. It's just me and you, Thomas,'_

Months had passed since that sensual encounter on the grass, but as Thomas paced the chamber, his mind and body could still recall every moment. He could still taste Lucy's lips on his, find the brief fear in his mind, when he had worried that he had hurt Lucy as they had fallen back on the grass. She had laughed at the worried expression on his face, but as their eyes had locked, passion once again took over any ounce of reason as he pushed back Lucy's skirts and she unlaced his beeches. Biting on his lip, his mind flashed with images of the act, his hand circling her left breast, as he slip in and out of her, his chin resting on her shoulder as gasping her name. Her moans of 'Thomas,' echoing around his mind. And he could still remember that after the bolt of ecstasy, when they had both lied there on the grass panting, he had though that the secret to a good life was to share it with someone, who possessed the same the heart as you. However, he had been wrong, for by forgetting to be rational, he had sinned greatly.

'Thomas,' interrupted Erasmus, bringing Thomas out of his thoughts, 'my sweet friend, please tell me what troubles you. Please let me help,'

'There was a girl,' said Thomas solemnly, trying to block the image of Lucy with her dazzlingly blue eyes as he stared at the palms of his hands, remembering digging the corners of his rosary into his flesh as he tried to atone for his sins, 'we were friends. She understood me and I...I...I could not banish her from my mind...and we became close, very close...and she got with child,'

As the bare bones of Thomas' secret fell from his mouth, he felt his eyes become moist with tears. Since that day when Lucy and their baby had been taken from him as punishment for his giving in to the devil, he had not really spoken about Lucy, not even to his father or siblings. He knew Johanna and John were angry with him, though they hide their anger, thinking that he surrendered too quickly but what was he suppose to do?

'May I take it, my dear More,' came the voice of his great friend, cutting through the silence, 'you were the reason for the girl's belly?'

'We were going to get married,' answered Thomas, becoming distant for a brief moment as he allowed his mind to wander back to those moments when he and Lucy had planned their lives together, 'but it makes no differences now. God parted us and took our baby before it could be born,'

'And what became of this girl?' asked Erasmus, warming his hands by the fire, 'you no longer see her, I guess,'

'I left her,' Thomas muttered, feeling his burden press down on his shoulders and his chest tighten as he felt his guilt increase, 'we found we could not marry and I left her. She was crying and begging for comfort and I left her. She ran after me and she fell. I had told her to be careful. It was snowing and the baby...I told her she needed to be careful because of the baby, yet when it came to it, I could not look after them and I caused her to be so upset that she fell,'

Thomas could not speak any further, for if he did, he knew his long held back tears, would finally start to fall. Instead, he just joined his friend by the fire place and started to warm is cold, marked hands. It was all his fault. It was his weaknesses which had brought them to sin and caused the creation of the poor, innocent baby, who had been taken away before Thomas had a chance to put things right in this world. His child would forever be in a state of limbo, out of reach from the glory of God because of him and what of Lucy? She was now damned because he had taken her in adultery and could only hope his constant prayers to God would save her. However, every time Thomas prayed for their souls, he would also mourn the loss of never being with Lucy again, or being able to hold their poor dead child in his arms.

Watching his friend, Erasmus became perplexed as he saw Thomas place his hands so close to the warm flames. In his letters, he had never mentioned this girl or the baby-but, in those months, their tone had changed. The warmth and enthusiasm with which he always wrote was still there, but something had been missing. Reading them, Erasmus would ponder what was wrong with his dear friend as his words had seemed distracted, as though he was rushing to be somewhere else. And know Erasmus knew why! His sweet More, like other great men of history, had found his mind taken over by the love song of a girl-and as he saw his friend almost plunge his clumsy hands into the flames, it seemed that his friend could not part with his lost love.

'Do you know, my More,' Erasmus smiled, grabbing hold of Thomas' hands and pulling them away from the flames, 'why Heloise would not marry Abelard?'

Thomas glanced briefly at his friend, perplexed by his question, though willing to indulge if it helped ease the pain.

'Well,' continued Erasmus, still studying his friend's hands and noticing with the help of the bright lights dancing from the fire, that both palms were marked, with little indents, as if they had been stabbed with something sharp, 'the girl, even in her unfortunate condition, would not consent to marry him, because she knew that a life, with a wife and a house full of toys and babies was no life for a great man. How can a man full of ideas, be expected to fulfil them when his wife is constantly asking him to hold the crying baby or have her nagging at him to ask her how her day has been?'

'But what of Jane?'

'Yes, though you do not love Jane. You mistake my meaning, for a man, who is married to a woman out of duty, finds it easy to divide his time between the world of family and the world of ideas. However the man who marries out of love, finds his mind so consumed by passions, that he finds his enter time completely absorbed by the woman, who has is heart. His life, therefore, is one that is of great loss to the world, because they have been robbed of his ideas,'

Biting on his lip, Thomas looked at his good friend briefly before pulling away. It seemed no one understood the pain he was going through-they all found a good reason why he and Lucy should not have been together. They were not of the same class, it had been simple childish infatuation, Lucy had been too good for him, (something he had heard Johanna hiss to John at his wedding) and now that they should never have married because he loved her too much.

'You are mistake me, my sweet More, if you think that I say these things to hurt you. You are wrong, for I say them as someone, who cares deeply for you. As I have said, your letters of late, have been full of distractions as your mind has gone on other things, drifting away from the great isle of Utopia. So perhaps, in a bid to let your mind become free of your girl and the poor child that you both lost, you should let the things, which have become neglect of late, help push the pain from your mind,'

Thomas managed once again to return his sight to his friend and manage a smile. It was common sense, which his friend, who was often more obsessed with the intellectual workings of the mind, spoke and reminded him briefly of Lucy, but it was different. And whilst Erasmus was wrong, in that life with Lucy as his wife would have been blissful, he was right about returning to the workings of his mind. He was sure he could find a balance between being a good husband to Jane and father to their soon to be born child, whilst continuing with his work; and with his work, he could use it to made amends for his past mistakes, to make sure others would not suffer the same pains as he. Furthermore, if he could show others the importance of letting reason and God's holy laws govern their lives, perhaps he would finally atone for the sins he had committed and led the peaceful life that he always craved.


	24. Chapter 24

**Big thank you for all my reviews and to everyone who is reading this story. Sorry the update has taken so long but I found myself suffering from writer's block with this story-hopefully, I have now overcome it. **

**Two quick notes-very little is known about More's brother, John or their relationship, so have used my imagination for this chapter and the following ones. Also Cry, Cry, Cry's song **_**The Ballad of Mary Magdalene **_**was a great inspiration for the first part of this chapter, so I decided to include the first verse.**

**Hope you enjoy.**

My name is Mary Magdalene  
I come from Palestine  
Please excuse these rags I'm in  
I've fallen on hard times  
But long ago I had my work  
When I was in my prime  
But I gave it up  
And all for love  
It was his career or mine

Sat by herself on the stump of a tree, Lucy was busy sewing the tapestry, which the Mother Superior had given her to work on. It was to show Mary Magdalene being forgiven by Jesus for the sins of flesh. It was a lesson for Lucy, the older woman, with the kind brown eyes had explained, for no matter how far one was to stray from the laws of God, with penance, patience and the hard work, they would always be forgiven.

They were kind, the Sisters of St Ursula, whose convert lay an hour's ride from the wall of London, which had surprised Lucy, especially after Wolsey informed Sister Bridget that the reason, Lucy need sanctuary was because of adultery. She had expected them to ignore her, to cast her aside, to punish her for her sins, but they had not. They had been gentle with her, they included her in their prayers and whilst they would constantly reminded her, that she needed to atone for giving into the lusts of her body, they looked at her with pity and not with the horrible air of disappointment- for that was the way Lucy's father's eyes looked at her.

Not that he looked at her much, for he had visited his only child once and even then, it had been the most horrible of meetings. They may never have been as close as Lucy had wanted them to be, but now there was painful distance between two, caused by her father disillusionment with his once perfect little girl. He hated that she was now a fallen woman and one that was a willing participant in her fall from grace. Geoffrey Glossop wanted his daughter to say that that Thomas had forced himself on her, that she had cried and pleaded with him not enter her sacred place; Geoffrey could hold his head high then and people would say 'poor Geoffrey. There goes a man, whose his family was brought low by those no good Mores,'. But Lucy would not lie and tell her father what he wanted to hear. She had wanted those moment with Thomas, whether it had been simply holding hands, secret kisses or passionate embraces, Lucy had wanted and enjoyed every encounter. Her father would have to suffer the insult of having the city gossips speak of his loose daughter. Besides she still had her aunt, though her husband stopped her visiting as often as Lucy would like and Tommy, despite the fact he suffered from a fear of nuns.

And of course, she still had Joan but poor Joan was more dependent on her, than Lucy was on her oldest friend. William prove to be every bit of the bad husband, which Lucy predicted he would be, disappearing for days on end, with all the money and returning whenever the money was gone, with his clothes smelling of whore.

No, Lucy was going to have to be the strong one. It was her who was carrying the baby and her who would love and protect it, when it would appear in this world; she would need to clear her mind, before her child's arrival.

Her child...her child. The words sounded so strange at first, as if they implied that this unborn babe was the sole product of her alone-not the result of those months she had with Thomas. But as time wore on, the words became more normal and part of her life. After all, this son or daughter, would just be hers for the rest of her worldly life, wherever the two of them found themselves. There would always be questions, from strangers as well as her child, but Lucy had already rehearsed the answers to perfection in her mind. She fell in love with the kindest, most gentlest man, that you could ever hope to meet, who truly wanted to look after her and their child, only God had other plans.

It was the truth, only Lucy hoped that those listening to her tale would draw a different conclusion-that the father had unfortunately died. It was not cruel, it was practical and Lucy needed to be practical. Besides this, she had decided that this was her penance from God, that she needed to act in such away, so she could, after the pains of purgatory, bathe in the joys of Heaven. To bring up her child in a good, honest way, always feeling loved and cherished, never feeling that the absents of her father was in anyway a reflection of them or on Thomas.

Poor Thomas. No matter how hard Lucy prayed, she found her heart still missed him and wished for his return. The nights were the worse, for in the darkness, she would truly realise that she was alone as if she was a child again, plagued by nightterrors and longing for her departed mother to comfort her. But Lucy would have to find away to erase this pain, the way she had suppressed the cries for her mother.

She hoped Thomas was happy or would at least, find happiness in the years to come, for he deserved it. Joan though Lucy should be angry with him, cursing him under her breath or raging to high Heaven for leaving her weeping on the floor of Eltham Palace, as he ran to make plans for marrying another. Perhaps, if he had been like all the other men she met, Lucy would do so, but she could not. All she could think about was how safe she had felt in his arms, but not because of his physical strength; but because she knew she was completely loved. Loved, not just because of her looks, nor did he expect her to put on a brave face and solider through times of trouble but because of who she was in her entirety. She did not have to pretend with Thomas, for he could see all sides of her and he did not reject any of them. He took her when she was hard, he took her in tears, when she was being serious and when she was laughing, he told her she was clever and laughed with her, when she played the fool and he had seen her venerable. And above it all, he cared about her, not just about what happened to her in this world-all those whom she loved did that but Thomas cared about happened to her for all eternity; that long after her body was dead, her soul would certainly find its way to the glory of Heaven.

Thats why it had to be this way. Whatever Lucy felt about the woman, who had taken her place at Thomas' side, it did not stop her wanting the best for him. To have his chance of happiness and not to lose his place in the world. Her and Thomas may have been happy together, the two of them and their child, but behind Thomas' grey, Lucy could see that he was meant to be more than just a loving husband and father, that there was something inside him that was destine for greatness. Lucy could not understand it, but the way he spoken caused her to feel that his words and thoughts were something special and would be hindered by him driving himself made with guilt over her and their child.

As she went back to her sewing, Lucy once again felt the child kick the side of her belly and putting the sewing aside, she placed her hands on the moving spot. It kicks were becoming more stronger by the day and every tap, made Lucy grow in her belief that she could survive this; that once she had been fully blessed with the forgiveness of God, she and her child could live together in peace.

'Hush, little one, hush,' whispered Lucy, as she returned to her sewing, feeling the sun once again start to shine on her face.

* * *

'Oh John, please hurry,' hissed Johanna, as she crouched by the front door, holding a little stub of a candle in her hand, 'please God, send him home and I swear on the cross, I will makes sure he never does anything like this again,'

Tucking her pink toes underneath her night shift, she rested her troubled head against the corner where the two walls met. She had no idea what time it was, all Johanna knew was that it was extremely late, for the darkness over city told her so. It was mid May, the longest day of the year had just fallen upon them, so the night meant only that John was walking the streets at a dangerous and ungodly hour. Not only that, Johanna could hear voices from her father's study, which made the risk for poor John, who had not been himself since the day of Thomas' and Lucy's fall, even greater.

'_We have been rambling half the night,  
And almost all the day-a,  
And now, returned back again,  
We've brought you a branch of many-a__'_

'Oh John, no!' gasped Johanna, as she heard her brother's singing from the other side of street, 'not again!'

John had always been the rebellious one four siblings, who would openly defy the household rules. Many a time, him and his father would shake the walls of the house, with their furious shouting, usually brought on my John's habit of never being able to hold his tongue. It was the worst thing to do around their father, who had been brought up to understand the shear importance of appearances and family loyalty. Not that John did not realise what his father demanded of his children, it was just that in his mind, it was the only way to get attention from his father. It was easy for Johanna, for there was no need to feel that she was simply the spare daughter, for she and Elizabeth were always equal in their father's eyes. They were young ladies, who needed to protection from the vices of the world until he could find them suitable husbands to look after them, when they would bring forth the next generation to carry on the legacy, but with Thomas and John, it was different.

Johanna may not have been the cleverest of her siblings, but she could see more than any of them, what caused John's behaviour-and it was Thomas. John was the second son, constantly compared with an older brother, who was not only their father's favourite, for the simple reason that he was the first born or that he displayed an intellect that surpassed scholars twice his age, but because he was everything his father demanded of a son. He was clever, sharp and witty, all the things needed for a man in their social circles to advance to the high plains of English society, especially as he was talented not just with his tongue but his pen too. John was those things also, but they remained unnoticed by their father, for the simple reason that he refused to obey. Though as Johanna often thought, when she heard the raised voices of her youngest brother and father, that if only their father realised that John was just as talented and important as Thomas, then he too would be the perfect son.

'_Then let us all most merry be,  
And sing with cheerful voice-a;  
For we have good occasion now  
This time for to rejoice-a:__'_

'John!,' whispered Johanna as she opened the door and found him slumped against the wall, a large grin on his round face, 'get in here this instant!'

'Oh don't be angry with me, little Joanie,' he said, still with a smile as she pulled him quickly over the threshold, shutting the door as quietly as possible behind him. His breath reeked of ale, that Johanna could still smell, even after she pushed him away. The stench was so strong, that it caused her to wrinkle up her nose in disgust, at the state of her brother especially as she saw in the faint candlelight, stains of vomit down his doublet.

'Get to bed, John,' she sighed turning her back, 'and do not expect help from me again. I am sick and tired of this. You are on your own,'

'Oh Joanie,' cried John, reaching out and trying to grab hold of her hand, only he missed and stumbled forward, falling to his knees, 'don't be angry with. I promise it will never happen again,'

Johanna, who had started hurrying back to her bedchamber as quickly as possible before Elizabeth noticed she was missing from her bed, stopped in her steps and sighed heavily. It was always the same, every time John disappeared in the evenings since Thomas had married Jane and every time Johanna had had to hide her brother's actions from the rest of the family. She would tell them that John was tired and had gone to bed early, as well as washing his clothes and sheets herself, so no one else could smell the ale and vomit-though she knew Elizabeth was starting to suspect all was not well. For it was no real secret amid the More children, (though Thomas had failed to truly notice it), that John had been sweet on Jane, but Johanna knew the full truth-that John had been in love with his sister-in-law from the moment her parents had brought her to the house to meet Thomas for the first time. The way Thomas had been with Lucy, John was with Jane, never taking his eyes off of her and finding any excuse to be allowed to sit near her-he probably said more to her in their first meeting, than Thomas spoke to her in their whole courtship; and there was more. One thing which John could do with quill and ink, that Thomas had never been able to master, was drawing, especially sketches of people. When trying to find some paper to write down instructions for her dressmaker, Johanna had discovered the most beautiful sketch of Jane. You could tell it was her, there was no mistaking that sweet face, but absent was the nervousness that was constantly playing with her features, as were the tears, which seemed to be permanently swelling in her eyes. Instead, in place, was a face that seemed to dazzle in sweetness and beauty as if she was as confident as the woman Thomas was in love with. Johanna knew, that John had asked Thomas to speak with father over the possibility of him marry Jane instead, therefore she knew more most that it was not just Thomas' heart that was broken that day snowy day in December.

'Oh come here, John,' she sighed, turning back and helping John to his feet, 'just be quiet as father is still awake,'

Placing John's arm around her shoulder and her arm around his waist, she tried to help John to his chamber, but Johanna was nowhere near her brother's height and her strength was not match for his, so after only a few steps, both of them a stumbled in to the wall with a loud thud.

'John,' groaned Johanna , letting go of John and trying to straightened her strained back, as he once again crashed against wall, 'if we are going to get you to bed, you are going to have to help me. How father has not heard, I do not...!'

'What on earth is going on here?'

'Elizabeth!' cried Johanna in surprise as she felt her heart miss a beat, 'John is feeling unwell, we think it must have been the fish he ate at lunch,'

'Nothing to do with the ale I can smell then,' muttered Elizabeth, as she swopped past her sister and made her way over to her brother, who was struggling to remain on his feet, 'dear God John, look at the state of you,'

John made a mumble of a reply in an English tongue, ruined by the evils of drink. Not that Elizabeth paid any attention, as she simply grabbed hold of one of his arms, pulling the limb over her shoulder as she indicated for Johanna to do the same.

'You know, John,' said Elizabeth sharply, as both sisters continued in their quest to get their youngest brother to his bedchamber, before their father was alerted to the happens in the corridor, 'we all have a problems but dealing with them by soaking yourself in drink is not the answer...'

'Don't,' groaned John, shaking his head as the affects of the ale started to wear off, to be slowly replaced with a pounding head and twisting guts.

'Do not worry,' continued Elizabeth as they struggled down the corridor, 'I will not tell father. Lord knows, you never listen to a word he says. No, I will get Thomas to speak with you,'

'You would not dare!'

'Do not snap at me, John,' replied Elizabeth, in her no-nonsense tone, which she had been perfecting since mother died, 'someone around here needs to talk to you about right and wrong,'

'And how is the man, who left his fiancée heartbroken and alone as she miscarried their child, going to teach me right from wrong?' sneered John, glaring over at Elizabeth, who was slightly shocked by the look of contempt on his face. Even at his worse, when he was rowing with their father, John had been hard on the rest of them. In fact, after one of his worse rows with father-over his refusal to send John to either Oxford or Cambridge-the moment he had seen his sisters and brother, he had a jolly grin back on his face, so to see a look of twist hate on his face, shook Elizabeth to the core, 'not to mention, that my saintly brother, is also the same man, who can't bear to be near his poor wife because he is still in love with another!'

'John that is unfair!'

'How is it unfair? Its the truth, Elizabeth and everyone knows it to be true, only you are too scared to admit it, because it would mean you having to realise that your perfect brother, is not quite the saint you believe him to be!'

'That is unfair, John,' gasped Elizabeth, letting go of him as both her hands flew up to her face in shock, 'I have never loved or treated you and Thomas any different,'

'Tell me, then,' croaked John, trying to regain some level of self control, despite the nauseas that was fighting to be freed from his stomach, 'when was the last time you nagged Thomas with cries of, _"oh why can you not be more like John!"'_

'I love you both the same,' repeated Elizabeth, as if in a stunned state of shock. Her family were the centre of her world, even more so since their mother died and although their new stepmother was a great improvement, (another Joan, to replace the one who had died soon after Thomas' wedding to Jane), Elizabeth still felt herself to be the mother of the family. It was her responsibility to take care of the others, so to hear that some thought she had failed in that role, caused her heart to crack, 'it just that you are both different,'

'Because we are different!' roared John, so loudly that Johanna started to panic that their father would soon come running, 'we are not the same, yet all I have ever heard since I could talk and walk, is _"John why can you not be like Thomas?,"_ and_ "Thomas would never behaviour in such a manner,"_; that is of course, when father remembers that he has another son!'

'What!' came a booming shout from the other end of the corridor, which caused all the More children to freeze in horror, as they feared their father was about to descend on them. Only he did not suddenly appear before them, but continued to shout words, that changed from ones that had them frozen in horror, to being struck with shock, 'what do you mean she is still with child?'

* * *

John More banged the top of his ancient desk with such force, that the picture of wine, which was placed between him and the Cardinal, to almost tumbled from the smooth oak surface on to the red robes of Wolsey. He could not believe the words that were being departed from this late night visitor's mouth. The child-his unborn grandchild-was dead, dying in its mother's womb before it had a chance of life and while there was no denying that it had hurt seeing Thomas' heart get broken, it had all been for the best. Thomas had married Jane and they had a baby on the way-all the things John More needed for his family to continue to rise in the world, but it seemed once again his world was starting to crumble.

'Exactly what I have just said, Sir John,' sighed Wolsey, out of the pressure of the situation as well as guilt. He had kept the secret of Lucy's condition to himself for several months but he was finding, that despite his rare prayers to the Almighty, he could not lift the heaviness from his heart. Perhaps he should never have concealed the real truth over Lucy's husband as it was weighting heavy on his conscious, but maybe, by revealing that Lucy was still carrying Thomas' child to John More, might help to ease the pain-after all it was to be his grandchild, he should take some responsibility, 'the physician made a mistake,'

'I thought with your wealth,' cried John More as he flung himself down in his chair, 'you could have afford a physician who knows the difference between an expecting woman and one with an empty belly!'

'Believe it or not, I did not higher my physician because he possessed gynaecological expertises,' replied Wolsey, his voice now finding strength as he shifted his burden, 'anyway, what's done is done! Goodwife Giggs is still with child and what I would like to know is, what will you have me do with them?'

John More groaned, as he leaned forward with his head in hands. What was it with this blasted woman? Why did she seem to constantly find away in to the heart of his family, just when he thought she had ruined his plans for his last time?

'I trust,' he muttered as he massaged his throbbing head, 'that the child is indeed Thomas'?'

'If you had seem them together in Hampshire, Sir John, you would not be asking that question. There must have been something in the country air, for your son could not keep his pious little hands off of her,'

Again John More groaned as the pain in his head, that had plagued him during Thomas' courtship with that woman, returned with force. How could he explain this woman and this baby to the Colts? But more than that, how was he going to handle his son? Poor Thomas had been so heartbroken over the death of his unborn child and even though, he did appear to happy over Jane's belly, John More could see that he still blamed himself for that woman's miscarriage. So what would the news that his long-lost love was still carrying his child, do to him?

'I do not think it best for us to inform Thomas,' said John More, trying to compose himself. He did not think that Thomas would do anything foolish, like abandon his wife and legitimate child, for his true love and their bastard, but he knew Thomas would want to be the dotting father to this child, regardless of how it came into creation, 'you know as well as I, how he would react,'

'Indeed,' echoed Wolsey, putting his hands together in prayer as he sensed himself once again in control, 'so there remains the little issue of the woman, who only has another month until she delivers your grandson or daughter,'

'The child could be adopted out,' replied Sir John, thinking of the most logical conclusion, 'a clean start all round. Do you think she will constant to that? It would mean that woman would be free of any gossip and stigma,'

'I thought of that myself,' said Wolsey, getting to his feet and starting to pace the length of the study as if it was he who owned the room. It was true, it had been the first thought that had crossed Wolsey's mind-it is what he would have done and had done, in any other circumstances, but Thomas was not your ordinary man and Lucy was certainly no timid maid, 'but if you want this girl to continue to play our game, we let her keep the child, for no matter how much she loves your son, I cannot see her being quiet if we rob her of the one thing she has left,'

'No, I guess not,' John More sighed, looking over the papers on his desk and noticing, out of the corner of his eye, that the draw, in which he always kept a bag of coins, was open. He then remembered a time before, the first occasion when he had tried to get rid of Goodwife Giggs and her precious cargo, 'she and the child will have to be sent away and somewhere far away. Durham, perhaps?'

'Her family are all in London, I...'

'Well, I shall make her see sense!' snapped Sir John, once again angry at the current state of affairs and realising this time, he could not let Lucy dictate the rules of the game, 'where have you put her?'

'St Ursula's,' answered Wolsey, in a voice that was more of a sneer, than a cordial reply-so this was the thanks he received for trying to save this man's family from humiliation, 'an hours ride directly north of the city walls, near...'

* * *

'I need to see her,' said Johanna, ringing her hands tight together as she sat herself down on John's bed, 'I need to see she is well,'

'Do not be foolish, Johanna,' sighed Elizabeth, putting an arm around her young sister's shoulder, 'you cannot go. No, it is best we just let father take care of things and forget we ever heard those words,'

Johanna shot her sister a furious glare, that was in the same mode of their father as she shook off Elizabeth's comforting arm. Lucy had been Johanna's friend and she had been looking forward to having her as a sister-Lord knows she would have better addition to the family, than that Jane and her tears. Johanna missed Lucy so much, so much so, that she now had no ambition to continue with her cross-stitch. She also knew that despite Elizabeth's sympathetic smiles, she had been relieved that Lucy was gone from Thomas' side.

'I should have known you say that,' replied Johanna, her voice too mimicking her father, 'you never did like poor Lucy. You never did think her good enough for Thomas,'

'It is not a question of whether she is was good enough for Thomas,' said Elizabeth, feeling herself grow weary with tiredness and frustration, 'but whether she was suitable for the family, which she was most certainly was not!'

'You just could not bear to think of Thomas being completely happy or not being dependant on you!' Johanna again said sharply as she got to her feet and moved away from her sister's grasp, 'you are not Mother, Elizabeth and if she had still been with us, you know as well as I she would have welcomed Lucy...,'

'Mother was the daughter of the Sheriff of London'whispered Elizabeth, trying desperately to hold her ground, but feeling that she was losing in her quest to care for her siblings, 'and Lucy the daughter of a tavern keeper, who caused the most awful scene when he was here. Lord knows that the servants are still whispering about him,'

'But unlike you, Elizabeth, Mother had a heart and she would have been satisfied that Thomas was truly happy, instead of having to force a smile for Father,' continued Johanna, but as she looked over at her sister, her harsh tone became a bit more subdued, as she saw her older sister trying to suppress tears. Not that Johanna regretted what she had said tonight, but her heart did shudder at having reduced Elizabeth to tears as she was not a woman to cry easily, 'look, Elizabeth, I know you are right, in that Thomas had to give up Lucy after what happened with her husband, but what about the baby? That poor, little innocent child being born into a world without a father, without truly knowing where it comes from or who it might be. Can you image that, Elizabeth?'

Slowly, Elizabeth shook her head from side to side, for she could truly never comprehend such existence. Her life had been mapped out from birth, her very existence plotted by her father and Grandfather Graunger, her career planned from the cradle. It did sound cold and perhaps it was, but Elizabeth always had the one assurance, as she followed the path set out for her-that all her family would be with her every step of the way. She knew who she was and she knew that regardless of what happened to her in this world, there would always be people there who loved her, to help her along the way, whilst those, like mother, whom were no longer flesh and blood, would be waiting for her in Heaven.

'Very well,' she answered, getting to her feet and reaching out a hand to her younger sister, 'we will go and see her tomorrow, but promise me, you will not tell Thomas. Father maybe right that Thomas would want to be a loving father to the child, but it would also send himself to brink with guilt,'

'I promise,' agreed Johanna, knowing that her brother would torment himself to the edge of madness, in the belief that he was guilty of ruin child chances of happiness. Besides her fears of her brother, she longed to see her old friend and maybe help with the baby when it was born; so with that in mind, she returned to her sister's arms.

'So once again, Thomas is excused his responsibilities,' groaned John, in between vomiting into the chamber pot on his lap. He was more sober now, the vile bile having worn off the effects of the drink, leaving him with only the unpleasant after affects, 'and once again he can carry on as if he has done nothing wrong!'

'No,' answered Elizabeth, the sharpness returning to her voice, 'we are protecting him,'

'Yet if that was me,' continued John, between mouthfuls of vomit, 'you would march me down there and force me to take responsibility for getting that poor girl with a heavy belly. That is of course, if Father has not torn me limb from limb first!'

'John!' said Elizabeth firmly, rushing over to her brother, shaking her finger as if he was still a child in need of punishment, 'Thomas is not be told!'

* * *

'Johanna!' gasped Lucy, as the excited girl threw her arms around her, 'what are you doing here?'

'I heard the Cardinal tell Father,' she replied with a grin, as she let go of Lucy's shoulders and fell to her knees, placing a hand on Lucy's large round belly as she did so, 'hello, I am your Auntie Johanna and I cannot wait to meet you! You see we all thought you to be…'

In a state of shock, Lucy stared at Johanna, who continued to speak words of happiness to her unborn niece or nephew. How could this have happened? No one in the More family-with the possible exception of Thomas' father-was meant to know. They were all meant to believe that Lucy and Thomas' child was dead and that Lucy had disappeared into a life of obscurity, whilst Thomas' made a life with his new wife and their baby. Its was cruel, but it had to be, as it was the only way anyone of them could have a chance of absolution and happiness. Yet, now the chance seemed to be slipping away, because if Johanna knew, others must do to, because there was no chance that this young lady, could have made her way here unaided.

'Johanna,' said Lucy, firmly, but not enough to sound cruel, for despite her panic, she could never forget that Johanna, along with John, had been one of her few allies in the More household, 'how did you get here? You can't got here by yourself?'

'Of course, I did not,' smiled Johanna, getting to her feet and sitting down next to Lucy on the bench, taking hold of her hand, 'I would be in more trouble, than I am already am, if I did. No, Elizabeth brought me,'

'Elizabeth,' repeated Lucy, chewing on her bottom lip as she remembered her encounters with the other More daughter, who seemed driven in quest to let the world know that this common little seamstress, was not good enough for her brother, 'come to gloat at the fallen woman?'

'No,' answered Elizabeth softly, as she enter the small, almost bear chamber, which Lucy now called home with her head hanging in a form of shame, for the previous nights had taught her, she probably deserved Lucy's harsh tone and was guilty of the sins of pride and vanity, 'we came to see if you are well,'

'And to make sure I do not ruin your family's reputation,' said Lucy, placing her hands protectively on her belly, ' well, you have no need to fear, I don't want Thomas hurt any more than you do, so please tell me that he doesn't know,'

Elizabeth raised her head and looked Lucy straight in the eyes. She had been greatly misguided her previous beliefs-this woman had (and still did) love and care for her brother with all her heart. That she was not some lose woman, who ensnared her brother into getting with child, then putting a ring on her finger. It had never been that way and what had taken place was between a couple, who were very much in love.

'Elizabeth is very sorry,' interrupted Johanna, before Elizabeth could speak, 'and she really does feel guilty about the way she treated you. Do not worry, Thomas does not know. Only Elizabeth, John, Father and I, and we promise that he will not find out,'

* * *

As Johanna and Elizabeth visited Lucy, back at their home in Milk Street, Thomas was in the library searching for a book that he could not locate in his own home. He was certain that he had taken it with him, when he had moved to Bucklersbury, but both his library and study were so crammed with books and papers that it was easier to borrow it from his father or brother, than search for it at home.

'John,' smiled Thomas, as his brother entered the library, perfecting the art of appearances as he tried to ignore that all was not well between himself and his brother, 'are you not feeling well again?'

'Thomas,' replied John, with a mere acknowledgement as he crept his way slowly to a chair, 'I think my head is splitting itself apart,'

'Ah, I have found it,' exclaimed Thomas, as he found the legal book he had been searching for, though just to make sure, he let his thumb flick through the pages, 'perhaps you should see a physician?'

'And perhaps you should get your head out of the clouds,' said John to himself as he glared at his brother, but as he watch Thomas with spite, he saw Thomas' cheery tone alter to the other extreme. Suddenly, he saw the colour drain from Thomas face as his shoulders hunch over, whilst his hands started to tremble to such an extent that it caused the book to tumble to the floor with a loud thud.

'John,' whispered Thomas, pointing at the discarded book, 'did you draw that?'

Slowly, John got to his feet and reached for the open book. Trying to suppress his nausea, he looked through the pages, until he reached the leaf that had caused his brother to go white, which in turn, caused John's mind to suddenly return to last December. It had been as Elizabeth was making her strong views about Lucy known to Thomas. As she, Thomas and Johanna had exchanged words, John had been sat there drawing in the legal book, which he was meant to be studying. Only he was not, for instead, he was sketching a picture from memory of the beautiful woman, with the bright blue eyes, who was carrying brother's child.

'Thomas...'

'I know you think I am coward,' Thomas sighed , feeling his heart become even more full of guilt. He had seen the way his younger brother had come to look at him and whilst Thomas had tried his best to ignore them, there was no hiding from John's looks of distain, 'that I betrayed her,'

'Because you did, brother,' replied John with bluntness, as he slammed the book shut, 'and do not expect sympathy from me, as you deserve none,'

'I would not dream of asking for it,' Thomas said with a brief ironic smile, 'for I deserve none. Not from Earth and certainly not from Heaven,'

'And yet, we all are expected to give it to you,' snapped John, suddenly feeling his emotions boil to the surface as the aching pain of his head erupted, 'your actions cause nothing but hurt and yet, we are expected to keep you safe from pain! Well what about mine? What about my broken heart? Do I deserve no protection and love? What about the fact your poor pregnant wife is making herself sick with trying to gain your attention-not to mention your love? And what about the one you do love? She who is all alone in the world after being abandoned by you in her hour of need! She who is still carrying your unborn child...'

* * *

'Lucy!' cried Thomas, as his mind thought of nothing else but her and their unborn baby as he hurried through the corridors of St Ursula's in search of them. Usually, he would never behaviour in such a manner, especially not in a community dedicated to the works of God, but all he could think of at that moment, was seeing the woman, who haunted every hour of his days and to see her belly, which carried the precious baby, who he thought dead by his own cowardliness and sin, 'Lucy!'

Finally he found the chamber, which the frightened, young Sister had told him belonged to Lucy. Usually, he would have knocked and waited for the call to say he was welcome, but today he did no such things-today he just pushed the door aside and entered unannounced.

'Lucy!' he gasped, as he saw before him, sat between his two sisters, was the beautiful blonde with the bright blue eyes. Thomas was out of breath, not just from the rushing but from seeing before him the love he thought lost, with her belly heavy with his child, 'Lucy,'

'Thomas,' Lucy replied, in a simple fragile whisper as she grabbed hold of Johanna's and Elizabeth's hands, 'Thomas,'


	25. Chapter 25

**First of all, so sorry for the long delay in updating. Have been trying to update for ages, but I kept losing the passion-hopefully, I have once again found it and this chapter will make up for the long delay.**

**Secondly, big thank you for all my reviews and to all my readers and a super massive thank you to Vader's Mistress and SSLE, (sorry I forgot to spend the draft to you-have had a stressful few months) for being this story's biggest supporters.**

**Hope everyone enjoys. **

'Lucy,' smiled Thomas, as his mind seemed to forget everything that had passed since that snowy day in December. He forgot the pain of being told they could not be together, the heartbreak of being told that their baby was dead, of having to marry Jane and the pretence of being happy. In fact, for a brief moment, the existence of his expecting wife, sat at home, trying desperately to make conversation with his friend, who refused to speak English, was the last thing on Thomas' mind. For as he saw those bright blue eyes again, he was back at Eltham Palace, excited to be once again with the only person who truly understood him, 'Lucy, I...'

'You shouldn't be here, Thomas,' whispered Lucy, looking away from him as quickly as possible to Elizabeth, whose hand she still held tightly as she tried to suppress tears, 'you swore he didn't know?'

'I...' started Elizabeth, as stunned as Lucy by her brother's presence, but she had a notion about where Thomas had received his information from, though in her state of shock, she could not grasp what she should do or say to easy the situation, 'I...'

'John told he,' interrupted Thomas, still with a smile on his face as he rushed forward, feeling nothing but joy as he placed his hands on the side of Lucy's now fully rounded belly. He knew his brother's words had been shouted at him in spite, but it did not matter now. John's words had been true and well placed-Thomas knew he was well deserving of such scorn- but more importantly, they had revealed to him the truth and united him with all that he thought lost, 'and I am glad he did. Lucy you should have told me our child still lived,'

'It ain't our child, Thomas,' muttered Lucy, knocking her former lover's hands away, as she felt the baby growing in her womb kick the spot where its father had placed his hands, 'its my child,'

Thomas watched Lucy shuffle away from him, the smile being replaced with a look of complete dejection, for Lucy had pushed he away just at the moment, when he felt his child connect with him. It had been such a strong tap, that at that moment Thomas had thought that his life suddenly made sense again-only for it to once again be taken away from him.

'Lucy, since when did you become so cruel?' he replied, watching her as she walked over to the small window. He could tell by the struggle for quickness in her steps, that she wanted to run away from him, only the baby was preventing her from doing so, 'it is my child, as well as yours. As you said yourself the night you told me, you did not get the child there yourself. I...'

'And what of you wife, Thomas?' she whispered, placing her hands tightly round her belly as she did so, 'what about the baby you are going to have with her? Don't you think that this is cruel to them? And what about me and this baby, ain't this cruel to us? We ain't and can't be a family ,'

'Lucy...,' Thomas started, but he then stopped as he suddenly saw clearly the path, which laid before him. He had a wife sat at home, waiting for him to return that evening as her delicate fingers tried frantically to sew together clothes for their unborn child, tears falling from her pale eyes as she found her stitches too poor to hold cloth together. But it was not just the tragic image of his young wife, trying desperately to show the world and more importantly her husband, that she could be a good wife and mother, which caused him pain-it was the fact that Thomas had completely forgotten about her very existence!

How could he have been so foolish? How could he have forgotten about Jane and their baby? They were his life now, they were his duty, his chance to demonstrate to God that he was still worthy of the lights of Heaven-yet all it had taken was a single word about the whereabouts of his forbidden love, and he had gone running back, with all the old thoughts and feelings once again stirring in his body-emotions, which had brought him to the state of sin. But that being said, how could he abandon Lucy and their child now , '...we were friends once,'

'And look were that brought us!,' cried Lucy, turning to face Thomas, running her hands over her large belly, emphasising her point to him. She did not want to be cruel, it broke her heart to be sharp, for Thomas was only there wanting to love and support them-something most men in this situation would never offer-but Lucy for the first time, wished Thomas was like the others. She wished he had just forgotten about her and their child, abandoning to them to hand of fate, whilst he continued in his life of perfect appearances with his sweet little wife and their legitimate baby. Lucy hated herself for thinking such things, but it was way things needed to be. Thomas could not be the dotting and loving father to their child that he desperately wanted to be, for it would only bring them all misery and pain, with the added suffering of witnessing Thomas destroy himself over the guilt of their sin.

'This time though, it will be different,' croaked Thomas, trying to make his voice strong and convincing, but as the words fell from his mouth, even he did not believe them, 'we know we cannot stray this time. We will just be friends, wanting to care for our child,'

'And do honest believe that, Thomas? Can you honestly stand here and swear before God, that you feel nothing for me but friendship?' replied Lucy, trying to look her former lover in the eyes, but she found the pain in her heart too much to bear and she turned away as quickly as her belly let her, 'because I know I can't,'

'Lucy...' Thomas started, only once again he could not finish, for he knew every word of her's was true and for that, he hated himself. Staring down at his shaking hands, he loathed himself with every ounce of his being-he was nothing but a miserable sinner. He could not even look after his own child nor help its mother, because he could not stop his heart from loving her. With Lucy, even under the surface of all this formality, he still felt the same passions for her, which he had always felt when she was in his presence-feelings that he had held for her ever since the first time he had laid eyes on her, as she had shouted at him in the middle of that busy London street, '...I...'

'I think we should return home,' interrupted Elizabeth, tiptoeing over to them and taking hold of her brother's hand, 'come Thomas,'

Only moments ago, Thomas had burst through the door, itching with longing to see Lucy, wanting to be with her and their unborn child, which he had long given up for dead and condemned to limbo. And for a brief moment, he had forgotten all that had past, all the heartache and the torment of thinking he needed to repent for his breaking of God's holy laws. In those fleeting moments, it had been last year and he had been rushing to met his future-the beautiful seamstress with the bright blue eyes and the child they had created. But now it was back to the cold present and Thomas remembered all, only this time he was not seized by a frantic panic. There was now heart stopping fear as Thomas felt the flames of Hell licking at his skin as he tried to atone for them all. As he let his sisters lead him away, he felt nothing except a hollow emptiness as if there was no longer anything left of his heart and mind; he was just a shell, hollow as if dead inside, destined to spend the rest of his days pretending to be something he was not. Pretending that he was content with Jane and the children that they would have. Pretending that he was not in love with someone else. Pretending that everytime he looked at the children that Jane would bear him, that he looked at them with the unconditional love and not with a selfishness, where he would constantly be wondering what had become of the child he had created with his true love.

'It's for the best, Thomas,' he heard Lucy say, her crystal voice echoing through his mind as he let Elizabeth and Johanna guided him to the door, 'its bett...ah!'

As the three siblings reached the door, they all stopped to be as stills as statues, as they heard Lucy's cold voice suddenly crack into a cry of pain.

'Lucy,' said Thomas, as he slowly turned around to once again face the woman, who had only just said they should never see each other again-only he could not leave her, for something was not right, especially as he saw that her teeth were biting down on her bottom lip, 'are you well?'

'I am fine,' she replied, turning away, praying under her breath that the tug of pain she just felt, was just a scare. Yet as Lucy though her body was once again returning to its usual calm, she was soon seized by another rush of pain, 'I...I...ouch...I am fin...ouch!'

As Elizabeth and Johanna looked on with equal concern as Lucy once again bite down on her lip as she gripped the back of a chair trying to steady herself, Thomas rushed over to her.

'Lucy, you are clearly not fine,' whispered Thomas, trying to put his arms around her shoulders as he saw how white her knuckles were as she tried to suppress the pain she was trying to hide, 'Lucy I cannot leave like this. Please let me in!'

'Thomas I am fine. It's just a stitch. Now Thomas, please go,' she pleaded, letting go of the chair with her right hand as she tried to knock her former lover's hand away, but as she grab hold of his arm, a bolt of pain rushed through her body causing her to collapse into Thomas arms with a scream-and it was a pain that was not unknown to her, for she had felt it some years before, 'oh God Thomas, I think the baby's coming!'

As she spoke, she dug her nails into Thomas' clothes with another twinge of pain, that ended with the dripping noise of water. With the gushing sound echoing, all looked down to Lucy, whose left hand flew to the wet patch on her dress.

'Oh, Thomas, its comings,' she sobbed, as her other hand clung even tighter to him, 'please help me!'

'I will get the Sister,' gasped Elizabeth, usually so calm but realising the two things she had never prepared for happening, where now unfolding before her eyes and quickly she rushed towards the door.

'I'll go too,' echoed Johanna, as she hurried off after her sister, leaving Thomas alone, with the lady who only moments earlier, had told him to leave her. But now as he felt her body shiver with pain against him and heard low whispers as she tried to suppress her cries of pain, he felt he could not abandon her.

'Come on,' Thomas managed to say calmly, holding on to Lucy even tighter as he tried to guide her, 'let us get you two, to a chair,'

This time Lucy did not protest, this time she willingly let him lead her to the chair and gently sat her down. The pains were becoming sharper now and moving closer together, in such a short space of time-Lucy could only hope that unlike her time with Georgie, this labour would be quick. Last time, it had lasted all day, with Joan, auntie and cousins Elizabeth and Katherine taking it in turns to hold her hand and whisper about how it was all going to be well.

Lucy's husband had been a brute. He had beaten her black and blue on many of occasions, not to mention the games he liked to play with his vile words. He would have made a poor excuse for a father, but that did not stop the fears following through Lucy's mind as she gave her baby life. She was alone, yet God was about to trust her with the responsibility of looking after and caring for the most beautiful of all his creations-and all Lucy could think about as she gave Georgie life, was that she was not strong enough to fulfil this purpose. And time had shown that she was not strong or worthy, for she a lost had lost her little boy, but then she had found Thomas and for those brief few months, Lucy had found peace and strength, which she had managed to hold on to as it had all crumbled around her. Lucy had thought she could carry on that conviction as she gave birth and brought up her new child, but as she felt the pains of birth start to rip through her body, Lucy suddenly felt scared.

'Thomas,' she pleaded, looking up at him as she grabbed hold of his arm even tighter, 'please don't leave me,'

'Lucy,' replied Thomas, kneeling down beside her and ignoring the tiny voice in the back of mind, which was pleading with him to return home to Jane, he placed a hand gently on the side of Lucy's frightened face, 'of course I am not going to leave you,'

* * *

Despite the Sister's belief that the baby would soon appear, three hours passed and there was still no sign of the poor little creature, despite the horrendous screams coming from Lucy. Her cries sounded as though she was being tortured, like some poor wrench shackled to the rack as she struggled to separate herself from her child.

Outside the chamber, Thomas paced the hall for the first hour, but as neither of his sisters or any of the nuns appeared to tell him he was a father, he had dropped to his knees and prayed. Lucy screams, shouts and tears echoed around his mind as he prayed feverishly to God to deliver their child and keep Lucy safe from harm. He prayed to them all, to God, his son, the Virgin and St Margaret all asking them to save Lucy from sharing the same fate that her mother and countless other women suffered.

'Lucy, you have to push,' he heard Johanna pleaded through the a jarred door, 'please, you have to push,'

'I'm trying, I'm trying,' Lucy cried, her voice sounding drenched in fear, 'I'm trying. Oh Holy Mother, help me, I'm trying,'

'Come on, Lucy,' Elizabeth echoed, 'you have done this once before, you can do it again,'

But her mother had given birth to her first child with no problems, only to die along with the child at her next pregnancy-what, thought Thomas, if history was to repeat itself with her daughter.

'What the bloody Hell is he doing here?!' boomed the voice of Lucy's father, causing Thomas to hurry to his feet as he heard Lucy's family and Joan arrive, 'I'll kill him for this!'

'And hows that helping Lucy, brother,' sighed Lucy's aunt as she hurried towards the chamber, where Lucy continued to scream, 'now Tommy stay with your uncle and for the love of God, stop him from doing anything foolish,'

Out of the corner of his eye, Thomas watched as Lucy's aunt disappeared behind the door as wishing he himself could withdraw from the scene. But he could not leave Lucy, not now she needed him more than ever, besides he could never willingly contemplate leaving her-at the moment, she was the most important thing in his world. She was the only thing that matter, it did not matter that she did not feature in the what the world deemed to be Thomas' life, he need to stay with her until he knew she was safe and well.

'Oh my poor little lamb,' cried Lucy's aunt, bring Thomas out of his thoughts, 'haven't you pushed that little mite out yet,'

'I'm trying, I'm trying,' sobbed Lucy, in between screams, 'but it won't move! It won't move!'

'It's got its feet well and truly under the table,' laughed Tommy, scuffing his feet along the stone floor, only to stop once one of the Sisters appeared in the hall as if from nowhere, passing him with a disapproving look knitted on her brow, causing the smile to leave his face as did the colour as he quickly withdrew to the window seat, 'dear God, how do they do that?!'

'Oh will you be quiet boy!,' snapped Geoffrey, with more of a wretched sigh, than anger as he flopped against the wall, before sliding down it's cold stone surface till he was sat on the floor, he weathered face in his hands.

For a moment, Thomas just watched as this usually angry man, slumped on the floor his body shaking slightly, wondering what had occurred to alter this man's manner. From the first time they had met, on the doorstep of Lucy's old house, Goodman Glossop had been convinced that Thomas was out to ruin his daughter. Perhaps he had been right to try to warn Thomas off-after all, the mess that they were all now in was a clear sight of that-but Thomas had never set out to ruin Lucy or their soon to be born child, he had only wanted and still did want to love and care for them...the same as Lucy's father. Was that what altered his mood, that he too was frightened over the future of Lucy and the baby?

Slowly and carefully, Thomas approached Geoffrey Glossop, hoping that they could finally make amends for Lucy's and the child's sake. However, as Thomas went to place an arm on the man's shoulder, Geoffrey grab hold of his wrist and twisted it in his grip, so that Thomas felt a sharp pain run up his arm.

'I'm sure Lucy told you, that her mother died giving birth to our second child,' he said coldly, his worn blue eyes turning red with a suppressed anger, 'and if my daughter follows her mother's path to the grave; if they have to cut a dead child, you placed there, out of her broken body, I will kill you with my own bare hands,'

'Oh leave him be, it took two of them to get the baby there,' sight Tommy, trying not to raise his voice high for fear that one of the Sisters would return, 'besides Lucy won't die. She would never leave us. She knows we all need her too much. The baby will be here any moment, just you wait and see,'

* * *

Only the baby did not appear and despite Tommy's assertion that Lucy would get through the birth, as the hours drifted by and the day became night, it seemed that Geoffrey's fears for his daughter were taking a step closer to becoming true. Her cries and screams were becoming weaker as her body became tired and longed for a rest that the painful, protracted labour, refused to give her. As the candles became lit around them, even Tommy seemed to lose his faith that his dear cousin would pull through. Leaving Tommy trying to suppress tears and Lucy's father, who was constantly shaking in dread of losing his only child, Thomas slipped away to a small chapel at the end of the corridor.

Alone in the darkness of the small chapel, dedicated to the nunnery's patron saint, Thomas threw himself at the altar and on the mercy of the cross. Throughout his life, Thomas had never pleaded with God to save the life of anyone. When his mother had died from that growth in her left breast, he had just excepted it as God's will, only ever praying that she be spared the pain she was in. However, now he broke all the rules, for he could not think of anything worse than losing both Lucy and their child. They were not to blame for what had happened. It had all been Thomas' doing. It was his failure to control his lust that had brought them all to ruin-if only he had fought his urges, then on that long ago stormy night, he would have slept on the chair, instead behaving as if Lucy was his wife. Now they were all ruined, with the terror that Lucy and child would be taken from this world, without them being given a true chance for Thomas to show that they were worthy of the lightly of Heaven.

_Canticum graduum De profundis clamavi ad te, Domine;  
Domine, exaudi vocem meam. Fiant aures tuæ intendentes  
in vocem deprecationis meæ.  
Si iniquitates observaveris, Domine, Domine, quis sustinebit?  
Quia apud te propitiatio est; et propter legem tuam sustinui te, Domine.  
Sustinuit anima mea in verbo ejus:  
Speravit anima mea in Domino.  
A custodia matutina usque ad noctem, speret Israël in Domino.  
Quia apud Dominum misericordia, et copiosa apud eum redemptio.  
Et ipse redimet Israël ex omnibus iniquitatibus ejus._

'There you are!,' cried Lucy's aunt, rushing into the chapel and disturbing Thomas' prayer, 'come on, Heaven can wait, cause I need your help!'

* * *

Thomas did not have a chance to protest, as the older woman grabbed hold of his wrist and pulled him to his feet, dragging him out of the chapel and away from God. As they hurried along the lit corridor, Thomas noticed how tired the woman looked, her greying hair hanging limp around her face, whose skin was sunken and flushed with heat, but it was her eyes that alerted Thomas to the worry, that something had gone or would soon go badly wrong. They were sunken and the flesh around them black-and not just from the black eye her husband had given her that morning.

'I'll kill him!,' roared Geoffrey, appearing out of nowhere and suddenly back to his usual self, grabbing Thomas' collar, ripping him away from his sister and throwing him with a loud thud against the hard, stone wall, 'you killed my daughter! You killed my little girl!'

'For Christ sake, leave him be!, shouted Tommy, surprising Thomas that he was strong enough to pull his uncle off him, but Thomas saw that both uncle and nephew had been shedding tears, 'none of this is his fault!'

'Lucy's not...,' Thomas started, as Tommy once again, tried to stop his uncle from taking a shot at Thomas, who did not flinch as strong fist came within striking distance. After all, if Lucy was dead, which seemed to be the only clear reason for why emotions had reached such a pitch, what did it matter what anyone else did to him. Before he had met her, Thomas had felt himself a mere actor reciting lines others had written for him, but with Lucy things had felt so different. On those moments with her, he had let himself be the person he truly was, he had spoken his true words, he let the thoughts, which were constantly shooting around his mind, tumble from his mouth and when together, Thomas felt as if he truly belonged to the world and that it was a world which wanted him. Their separation had caused him so much pain, that sometimes he found he could not breath, but as long as he knew she was alive, as long as Thomas could believe that Lucy was somewhere in the world, with a chance to smile and laugh again, then he could carry on...he never though for one moment he could lose her forever. For to lose Lucy to the veil of death, would mean that he would have lost any right to mourn her, for as with the day he lost his mother, he would never dare to question the final word of God.

'No she not,' snapped Lucy's aunt, the harshness of her voice revealing her strong south London accent, which she always tried to hide, for fear that she would be deemed less respectable to those around her, but now she did not care. Her brother, bar her son, was the only man whoever truly cared for her. Their father had turned on the two of them when their mother had died, so much so that he had grown to hate his children, that at the moment when she was old enough and Geoffrey was away from the house, their father had sold her to that brute of a husband of her's. Geoffrey had tried to rescue her, but it was too late and besides her brother was not strong enough to fight off Walter, not that it mattered. He was always there for her, always giving her food and money and beds for her and the children every time she had tried to runaway-he did not deserve to loss the only thing he had in this world. Dau was determined that Lucy would not die, 'but she will be, unless you help me,'

'I fail to see...'

'You fail to see a lot, don't you!' replied Dau, her greying hair swirling wildly around her pale and weary face, 'look, the reason my niece can't push your little mite out of her is cause she's terrified. Terrified that she won't be able to look after the little one, once its here. Scared that she won't be able to give that poor little babe a life,'

'But Lucy is a good mother,' stumble Thomas as he fought to get his words out. It was true that he had never met her first child, but he saw the way she was, not just with children, but with everyone else around her. She was kind and caring, not to mention patient-you had to be to be friends with the likes of Joan-and standing for no nonsense. Lucy would have been a good mother and she would be again, 'she will be a good mother,'

'Then for the love of God!' cried Lucy's Aunt, pushing him towards the chamber, were earlier Lucy's shouts of torment had sounded from, 'tell her!'

Once again as she shouted at him, she pushed him hard and with such force, that despite the weakness of her sex and the twenty years she had over him, Thomas flew forward, so that he was now perched on threshold of the chamber were Lucy was struggling to give their child life. Only now her once strong cries had been replaced by low whimpers, that sounded like a wound creature struggling to break free from the poachers trap. Yet it was not this that made Thomas wince and stumble back, but it was the smell of blood, which hit him and embedded itself his nostrils. It was the smell of torture and death-all things, despite the beauty of the icons that depicted the Virgin and child, that could easily be associated with the deathbed.

At Thomas' emotionless state, Lucy's aunt once again shoved him, this time sending him cluttering through the door and into the small, bear chamber. There, almost directly in front of him, looking fragile was Lucy, laying on a single bed, sheets and blankets stained red with the blood that was seeping out from between her thighs, causing Thomas to quickly look away.

He was not sure what was worse about the sight of his lost love, whether it was sight and smell of pain or the look of complete despair on Lucy's beautiful face. Her skin seemed to be so pale, that Thomas swore he could see her bones, whilst the beads of sweat, caused her blonde hair to darken and stick together in lumps and to her fragile face. She looked so small. Not even on that final morning, when he had held her hair back as he watched her be violently sick into a chamber pot, had he seen Lucy looking so ill. Suddenly as he watched her try to lift her head off the sweat drenched pillow, the image of his dying mother flashed before his eyes, causing him to stumble back, nearly knocking Lucy's aunt off her feet.

'Men are so weak!' she sneered, push Thomas forward, 'all too easy they give into lust and then they can't stomach the fallout,'

'Thomas,' whispered Elizabeth, coming forward and taking hold of her brother's hand, 'mother did not die in childbirth, you must not...'

'She still died in pain though,' he muttered, letting go of his sister's hand and slowly walking towards the bed, saying a prayer under his breath as he felt in his pocket for the tiny gold cross that had once been Lucy's mother's, 'Lucy, I do not know much about having babies, but I believe you need to push,'

'I can't Thomas!' groaned Lucy, frantically tossing her head from side to side as if trying to escape from some terrible nightmare, 'I can't, I can't!'

'Yes you can, Lucy!' cried Thomas, suddenly finding some strength as he found the cross, clasping it tight as he did, 'I know you can!'

'I'm tired, Thomas,' Lucy pleaded, grabbing hold of Thomas' arm and squeezing it tight, 'let me rest. Please just let me rest!'

'You know I cannot let do that. If I let you rest, you and our child will die and I cannot let you do that,' continued Thomas with a surprising amount of calm as he placed the cross in Lucy's trembling hand, 'and I know your mother would not want that,'

'Thomas...' Lucy started, staring down at the cross her mother's former employer had given her many years ago, but before she could ask how he had in his possession, she felt his cold hands on her hot sweaty face.

'Lucy, listen to me,' Thomas pleaded, remembering everything they had once shared as he looked into her tired but still sparkling blue eyes, 'you are strong. You are one of the strongest person I know, if not the strongest! You have more strength than most men! You are going to a great mother, the way you were with Georgie! Remember how it felt when you held him in your arms for the first time! Remember all that love you felt! Remember all that belief and courage you had!,'

'But Thomas...'

'I know you blamed yourself for what happened, but remember all we said on that first night- you were not to blame. You were a good mother to Georgie, everyone knows that and you will a good mother to our child too. Lucy...' Thomas paused and suddenly in the heat of the emotions running through him, he leant forward and kissed Lucy gently on the lips, 'you know you can do this, I know you can do this and God knows you can do this,'

'Thomas,' Lucy choked, shocked by Thomas' actions, but at the same time, despite the pain and exhaustion, she found her despair gone and that she had a smile on her lips, 'I better push our child out then,'

'I guess you should,' smiled Thomas, sitting down on the edge of the bed, still feeling calm, 'beside you are not the first woman to have a baby,'

'Thomas!' started Lucy, put decided the urge to push was stronger than breaking the moment, 'ahhhh!'

'Good girl!' cheered Lucy's aunt, slapping her niece's leg as she looked with the Sister between Lucy's legs at the giver of life, 'now push again,'

'Ahhhhh!'

'I mean,' continued Thomas, still in a manner that his father would call having his head in the clouds, 'childbirth is the your punishment for Eve's crime, so given it origins, you should be embracing the pain, not fighting it,'

'Thomas!' hissed Lucy though gritted teeth as she grabbed a handful of Thomas' doublet, 'at this moment I can honestly say that I embrace God for the blessing that you will never ever get me in this state ever again! Ahhhh!'

'I was just trying to help you,' muttered Thomas quietly, trying to free himself from Lucy's grasp, whilst noticing that he was getting no sympathy from the chamber full of women, even from the Bride of Christ, 'I thought...'

'No you didn't think!' snapped Lucy, letting go of Thomas' doublet and grabbing hold of his hand, squeezing it so tight his fingers started to turn purple, 'now be quiet and hold my hand! Ahhhh!'

'Thats it!' cried Lucy's aunt, squeezing her niece's ankle in encouragement, 'only two more big pushes,'

'Ahhhhh!'

'Thomas!' suddenly squealed Johanna excitedly, 'I can see the head! Come look,'

Thomas briefly glanced down at the bed, with its sheets that were stained with blood and shit and felt his stomach lurch. With the colour draining from his face at the horror of what he saw, he decided to focus his attention on a painting of the Virgin that was hanging lovingly on the wall-consoling himself that there had been no hint of fluids at the Nativity.

'I chose not to,' he replied, suppressing the bile in his throat, 'come on, Lucy, just one more push,'

'Come on, Lucy!' cheered Joan, grabbing hold of her friend's other hand, kissing her on her hot forehead as she did so, 'give it some welly girl!

'Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!'

* * *

'Go on,' whispered Lucy, with a tired smile on her face, 'someone should welcome our daughter into the world,'

'I...I...,' Thomas stuttered, the world around him still not seeming real as the newborn baby...his daughter, cried loudly as if announcing her arrival to the world. It was as though he had stepped out of his life and was now just watching a play before him, in which the ' hero' realise that he still loved the woman, who had just given birth to their child. Lucy looked so beautiful, lying back on the sweat soak pillow, her usually blonde hair almost brown with liquid sticking to her radiant face-watching from his position from the audience, deducing that the 'hero' was realising at that moment that he was still in love with her, 'I do not think I can do this,'

'Well you should have thought about that, before you took my niece for a tumble in the hay,' dismissed Lucy's aunt as she descended on the two of the with a cry bundle of sheets, 'now, look after your daughter, while we clear up her poor mother,'

'But I have never held a child...,'

But Thomas did not have a chance to finish, for Goodwife Cromwell shoved the wriggling mass of sheets into his hands, before turning her attention to Lucy, who was still lying amid the soiled sheets. As the newly released limbs started get use to their freedom, Thomas felt as if she was trying to escape from his grasp.

'You need to support the poor mite's head,' shouted Lucy's aunt over her shoulder, as she helped Lucy sit up, 'and for God sake, calm down or you're going to hurt her!'

'Oh sorry,' whispered Thomas, rearranging his hands, so that he had a better hold off the little moving bundle. He felt his heart beat frantically as he tried to clear his confused mind. Amid the crumpled mound of sheets, laid a little girl, who was one half his and was counting on him to look after her. And he wanted to as well. Thomas wanted to love and protector her, but how could he? He had betrayed her, from the moment of her conception, he had casted this new life into a even deeper pit of original sin, than one God had originally intended. Because of Thomas' inability to control his lusts, he had forever wreaked the chance of salvation for his child, 'I am sorry little one, I ...,'

But Thomas did not have chance to finish his solemn apology to the little babe, whose life he felt he had ruined before it had even begun. For as he looked down at the sheets, trying to find the source of the little, shrill cries, which were coming from the bundle in his arms, Thomas found himself struck complete down by the tiny little face that he found looking back at him. She was so small, looking just like the dolls Elizabeth and Johanna use to play with, only she was more beautiful and as Thomas stared down at her, he was struck by how much this little angel was the perfect image of her mother. The same pale skin with the perfect round face, and as she opened her eyes, Thomas was convinced, that as she lifted her little eyelids for the first time, he would see the sparkling blue eyes of Lucy looking back at him. Only Thomas was wrong-for as he looked into her eyes, he saw her eyes had not inherited their colour from her mother-instead, she possessed the grey eyes of her father!

'Lucy!' he gasped, holding the little bundle tenderly now, as the overpowering sensation of love took over his body, driving away his fears, 'our daughter has my eyes! Baby Margaret has my eyes!'


End file.
